


The Wrong Foot

by aliceinchucks



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Automail, Drama, F/M, Romance, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinchucks/pseuds/aliceinchucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was one thing Winry knew about her new automail patient: he was quite abrasive. That was just about the only thing she was certain of when it came to that boy—but maybe they just got off on the wrong foot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in Amestris, but don't assume anything else from the canon storyline applies to this fic. Hopefully all major changes will be clear. And yes, they have cell phones. Hey, automail is pretty crazy advanced technology, why couldn't they develop cell phones too? Leave me alone, it's important to my plot. Enjoy!

 Winry finished scribbling the last few figures in the leather-bound account book before swinging her canvas bag over her shoulder and heading down the stairs. She was feeling accomplished after a good morning's work—one of the regulars at Winry's and her grandmother's automail shop had come in earlier for a tune-up on his thumb and then Winry had actually managed to get them caught up on the state of their financial transactions.

She checked her phone absently for messages as she headed for the door. There was one from another client, asking for confirmation about the method of oiling Winry had instructed her in. She started to type a reply, opening the door as she heard her grandmother's voice.

"Going shopping?"

She stopped with the door still open, turning to address her granny over her shoulder. "Yeah, we need eggs and I thought I'd pick up a few other groceries while I'm at it."

"Make it quick, Winry, we're receiving a new client this afternoon and you should be here."

"Oh?" The blonde's ears perked up at that; it had been a while since they'd gotten anyone new. She turned so that she was fully facing the shorter woman, letting the door close and leaning against it.

Her granny nodded, fiddling with a stubborn screw on their dog Den's leg. "Got a call this morning. He'll have to be a stay-in while he adjusts."

Winry's eyes widened slightly at the news of a stay-in on such short notice. "I'll be sure to hurry back so I can fix up the guest room."

Granny waved a hand dismissively. "I've taken care of it, just hurry back so we can get started as soon as he arrives."

Her granddaughter nodded. "Okay, see you soon, Granny!" She was out the door before she realized she'd forgotten to ask what kind of automail he needed. Now she wouldn't be able to mentally plan the design on her grocery run.

She was halfway through her shopping when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and saw that it was a text from an unknown number.

12:58pm: **Hi, is this Rockbell Automail? This is Alphonse Elric and I'm bringing a customer in today, I just wanted to confirm with you on the address?**

Winry smiled at the way the guy typed as if he were speaking on the phone and quickly answered his question.

It was about fifteen minutes later when she hurtled through the door, grocery sacks hanging from both wrists. "Am I—"

"Late," her grandmother sniffed. "They're in the clinic."

They? Oh, so maybe that Alphonse guy had stuck around. She deposited her purchases on the table and went to the clinic, smoothing her hair and trying not to seem as if she'd just been hurrying.

"—should be here soon, brother." "Sorry to keep you waiting!" A boy with short-ish, dark blond hair was facing away from her, wearing a button down white shirt with a brown vest and khaki pants; he was the one who had been speaking. Slouched in a wheelchair against the left wall sat a boy probably around her age with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, a bit lighter shade than the boy who must be his brother, but not as light as Winry's own. At the sound of her voice his eyes snapped up to meet hers, and she had to stop herself from openly gawking. The irises boring into hers were a brilliant shade of gold and for the moment the only thought that she could process was _pretty..._

"That's alright!" Winry had to force her gaze away from those eyes to the brother that was speaking again. Alphonse. Whose eyes were the same bright shade as his brother's. "We weren't waiting long. Only a few minutes. We got a bit lost on the way," he chuckled, but something about the sound of it didn't sit right with the mechanic. It sounded a bit strained. She smiled as brightly as she could.

"Well let's get started then!"

"Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce us! I'm Alphonse Elric, but you can call me Al, and my older brother is Edward."

Edward had been staring straight ahead and started a bit at hearing his own name. For the first time she noticed that the right sleeve of his black long sleeve thermal shirt was hanging loose at his side and his left pant leg was doing the same in the wheelchair. Were his eyes really so remarkable that she hadn't noticed missing limbs?

"I'm Winry Rockbell. Are you going to be staying with Edward while I examine him?"

Al glanced at Edward and looked like he was about to reply in the affirmative, when his brother shook his head just a fraction of a centimeter.

"Ah—" Winry tried not to notice how the short-haired brother's face fell. "Alright, I'll be waiting outside when you're done, brother." He put on a bright smile and directed it full force at the mechanic. "Take good care of him."

Winry couldn't help but return the smile. "Don't worry about that! He's in good hands! My grandmother runs the best automail clinic in Resembool!"

When Al was gone Winry went straight to the worktable to pick up a few items for measurement. She couldn't suppress her curiosity over what happened to get the guy in this state but knew it might be considered insensitive to ask. She usually only pried if it was someone she knew, which was hardly ever since few people she knew could afford automail, much less had any need of it. But maybe if she brought it up indirectly...

"Looks like you've had a rough time." She stuck a pencil in between her teeth as she headed back over to Edward with the tape measure.

"You took your time getting here," Edward muttered. Winry blinked. Did she hear that correctly?

"We even got a bit lost on the way and we still beat you. Al was getting anxious."

The mechanic grit her teeth. "I got here as soon as I could. Can you get your clothes off yourself or should I help you?"

Edward seemed a bit surprised by this but recovered quickly. _Yeah, mister, you're not the only one who can pull the random subject change._

"I can do it," he mumbled, pulling at his shirt with his left hand and managing to get it up and over his head. Winry had to remind herself that she was a dignified professional and that she was not, in fact, here to stare at his torso. Even if it was nicely toned.

His pants proved to be more difficult. Winry let him struggle for a minute, having figured already that he wouldn't be able to do it but wanting to see him flounder a bit after that comment he'd made. She was about to stop him and help when those golden eyes turned on her and gave her such a fierce warning look that she took a step back. It would seem Edward was determined to get his pants off himself through sheer power of will.

It took a couple more minutes but he managed it. He looked so smug sitting there in nothing but his boxers that Winry had to stifle a laugh.

"Alright, let's get you up on the table." She held out her hand to pull him up and surprisingly Edward let her, leaning on her slightly with an intense look of concentration on his quickly reddening face, his gaze directed determinedly on the floor. Winry pressed her lips together in a line, hoping her face didn't match his.

Once he was seated on the table, the examination only took a few minutes. She quickly measured and mapped the contours of where his arm and leg stopped as well as the measurements of his good limbs to use as a template.

"Alright," she said when she was done, pencil to her lips. "Your automail should be ready for installation in, oh, two days at most."

"Installation?" He chuckled without any real amusement. "What am I, a machine?"

"When I'm done with you, you will be," she quipped. "In part. Automail is machinery, get used to the terminology. You're going to have to deal with it from now on."

Edward went quiet again and Winry softened a bit. "Come on, I'll show you to your room." She helped him back into his black shirt and pants and into the wheelchair again, being careful of his bandages. Edward let her without complaint.

"Dinner will be around seven-ish. Do you need anything?" Winry stood in the doorway of the guest room as Edward sat propped up on the bed. The boy shook his head.

"Brother," Al started, standing in the middle of the room. "Are you sure you don't even want—"

"I don't want anything," Edward snapped. Al seemed to deflate a bit and his brother glanced at him and sighed. "Al—"

"No, it's okay—"

"No, I'm sorry, just, I'll be fine, okay? Don't worry so much. I don't need anything."

"Right... I should go now, I have class in the morning, and it's a long drive. I'll be back Saturday, alright?"

Edward smiled. It was a weak one and looked rather put-on to Winry, but still it was the first smile of any sort she'd seen on the boy's face. "Don't miss me too much, in that apartment all by yourself."

Al grinned and punched him on his good shoulder. "I'll try to keep the partying to a minimum."

"Speaking of minimum, I think I just heard your grandmother call."

"Wha—" Winry's confused expression morphed into a glower when his words registered. "Listen, you jerk, who gave you the right to talk about my gran—"

"Winry!"

Winry huffed. "Coming, Granny!"

Al sighed. "See you later, brother. Try and be civil."

"Yeah, yeah," Edward waved him off and the two other blonds made their way down the stairs.

"Have a safe trip," she offered.

"Thanks," Al said with a tired smile. "I know my brother won't ask you for anything while he's... you know, being like this, but he really likes books."

Winry smiled, vaguely wondering what he meant by 'like this'. Like being a jerk? "I'll keep that in mind. You're a good brother."

Al's smile faltered and disappeared. "Right... I hope you'll keep me updated on how he's doing?"

"Yeah, sure. Don't worry about a thing, you couldn't have brought him to a better clinic!" She said confidently.

* * *

Winry's eyes scanned over the blueprint she had just drafted for Edward's arm. Yeah, this would work. She bounced up and down in her seat, envisioning how it would look constructed in sleek steel and how beautifully it would function once she connected all the intricate wiring and machinery.

Before she allowed herself to be consumed by the task at hand, however, she remembered something and made her way up to the living room. Inspecting the rows and rows of books on her grandmother's bookshelf, she realised she should have asked Al to specify exactly what kind of books Edward would be interested in. With nothing really to go on, she grabbed a variety and carried them upstairs, thumping the stack against the door in lieu of knocking.

"Yeah?" She heard from within. With one hand she managed to get the door open. She glanced at Edward just long enough to see that he was sitting in the bed with his eyes closed, his back propped against the wall. She deposited the books on his bedside table with a loud, dull thud, causing the teen to jump, eyes flying open.

"I'm just gonna leave these here," she said quickly, swiftly exiting the room before he could respond.

Winry's basement workshop was in perfect order to get started. She rubbed her hands together in excited anticipation of finally having such a big project and set straight to work.

* * *

"Winry, go to bed."

"Eh?" She continued tightening one of the screws with her wrench, not paying her grandmother much mind.

"You've been working all night. It's six am."

"Is it?" Winry murmured, not too concerned.

"You don't want to make a stupid mistake on his leg because you overworked yourself on the arm."

"I won't make a mistake!" The teen huffed, straightening. "Although it might serve him right..." She added under her breath. Although she knew no matter how irritating the few sentences Edward had spoken to her had been, she would never intentionally mess up an automail limb. She took too much pride in her work for that.

She slid her wire cutter to the side and her phone towards her on the workbench. One missed message, from Al.

5:49am: **How is he doing?**

Hmm, how indeed? She crept upstairs, knocking on the door of the guest room with one hand, still clutching her wrench in the other. There was no reply, so she tentatively opened the door.

Edward was asleep with a book open face down on his chest. Winry smirked, coming further into the room to see which one it was. Her smirk morphed into a real smile at the sight of the familiar cover. It was one of her automail books.

She was startled by a sudden movement and low groan coming from the body under the book, the arm holding her wrench moving on its own to whack the offending thing in the head.

"Ai—!" Edward was sitting upright in a flash, staring at Winry with no small amount of alarm. "Woman! What is your problem?"

"Don't wake up so suddenly, you jerk!"

"Says the one sneaking into my room while I'm sleeping and hitting me over the head with—" he focused on what was in her hand, his incredulity increasing. "A wrench!"

Winry hid her gloved hand behind her head, scratching a nonexistent itch. "Well, you see—"

"Winry!" Her granny entered the room, hands on her hips and pipe between her teeth. She surveyed the scene in front of her and shook her head. "Winry, I hope you have a good reason for hitting the boy, he can't afford to lose any height."

Edward bristled. "Shut up, you flea-sized old lady, you've never even seen me standing!"

"I can tell from your stumpy little torso and short leg—"

"—still taller than you sitting down—"

"Winry, shouldn't you be working on Ed's leg?"

The blonde girl blinked. "I thought you told me to go to bed..."

"Well, I certainly hope you weren't planning on doing that in here—"

"Of course not!" Winry felt her face heating up against her will. "I was just checking up on Edward because Al asked—"

"Al?" Ed perked up at his brother's name.

"Yeah, I think I'll go work on his leg..." Winry headed for the hall, shooing her granny out in the process. She closed the door solidly behind them and let out her breath in a sigh.

"That boy has no manners," Granny said, taking a drag on her pipe. "I like him."

* * *

6:11 AM: Oh, he's doing just fine.

* * *

By evening the automail was complete. She rechecked her carefully labeled connecting wires and sat back to admire her work. It was beautiful, if she did say so herself. Definitely one of her best designs, and she was confident that it would function perfectly. She let herself revel in her accomplishment for a few minutes before setting her jaw. The worst part was yet to come. Thankfully she wouldn't be the one performing the surgery herself, her grandmother was the master surgeon; Winry herself was merely an amateur in that field. But still, she would have to be there to help if it was needed.

After letting her grandmother know she was done, she headed up to the guest room and knocked, letting herself in after hearing Ed's response.

"Your automail is ready. It's time now."

The boy blinked. "That was... less than two days."

"Yeah, well I did say two days at most."

He still looked shocked. "You crafted two steel-armoured prostheses that can connect to and utilise my nervous system to run all the electrical motors and pneumatic actuators and whatever else you put in there, without any external power source, in a _day_?"

"Well, I had to pull an all-nighter, but yeah. Sheesh, you say that like it's not my job." Her lips quirked upward, pleased at this reaction. "But hey, look who suddenly sounds like the expert in biomechanical engineering."

Ed's disbelieving face relaxed a bit. "Yeah, well someone told me I needed to brush up on my terminology," he said with a brief glance at the automail textbook sitting back on the bedside table.

Winry chuckled as she headed towards the bed to help him into the wheelchair. As he leaned against her, he glanced at her sidelong. "Why would you pull an all-nighter for this?" he asked quietly. "Why would you work yourself that hard unnecessarily?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She dumped him into the chair. He grunted, then shrugged. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Because you need a leg to walk with and an arm to work with. Isn't that what you came to me for? Every minute I don't work is a minute you don't have those things. So don't tell me it's unnecessary."

She glared at Ed, expecting him to be either sheepish or angry, but the expression she saw on his face was one she wasn't sure how to identify. If she had to try, she'd say he looked a bit... awed. But there was an intensity in that gaze that didn't quite fit with that, and it unsettled her.

"Let's go," she sighed, taking hold of the handles of his wheelchair. "Granny should be almost done with the preparations in the clinic."

* * *

"When we connect the nerves, it's going to cause a lot of pain. Luckily for you, Winry designed the automail with extreme precision and attention to the shape of your residual limbs so it won't be necessary to amputate them any further to fit the mechanisms."

Ed's eyes widened. "Do you sometimes have to do that?"

"Mm, sometimes there's no good way around it," Granny replied.

Ed fixed Winry with a ridiculously grateful look that would have made her laugh if she didn't have her game face on. It had been a while since she had observed an initial installation surgery, but she still remembered what serious business they were.

Granny began to unwrap Ed's shoulder bandage and Winry could tell that whatever had happened to him, it had been recent. The wound hadn't completely scarred over.

Winry's grandmother worked as efficiently as she could. She started with the installation of the shoulder port and the only sign of pain Ed gave was a sudden clenching of his jaw and fist, though Winry knew from watching the reactions of other patients that the pain he must be experiencing was much more intense than he was showing outwardly. Winry's hand automatically reached out to take his own to give him something to hold on to, and immediately she felt her fingers being crushed. She held back a squeak of discomfort. If he wasn't making a sound, there was no way on earth she was going to.

When the nerves connected, he couldn't suppress a cry of agony, his face contorted and eyes squeezed shut. Not for the first time, Winry lamented the fact that the conjunction of the nerves with the mechanisms required that the patient be awake and alert. All she could think about was how he would have to go through all this again with his leg.

Winry was an expert when it came to automail; she knew the ins and outs of all the inner workings and how to draft and craft the most efficient and functional designs, but one thing she didn't know was what it was like to actually have automail as a part of your body. The pain of installation, which Ed now knew. The trials of recovery, which he would soon find out.

She held his hand all the way through both procedures, attuned to his varying levels of pain by the pressure she felt squeezing on her own hand. By the time his new leg was fully attached, he was trembling all over, his breathing had grown shallow and quick and his forehead and neck were covered in a shiny layer of sweat.

Granny was done and Ed's hand went mostly limp in Winry's own, but his body continued to be wracked with tremors. She retracted her hand quickly, the practicality of having taken his earlier now no longer applying. The boy made no sign of noticing.

Winry helped her grandmother clean up the blood and sterilise the room again before promptly crashing on the couch.

* * *

When she was dragged back into consciousness Ed was seated on the edge of the operating table, flexing the fingers of his metal hand open and closed. He was staring at the appendages with a concentration that suggested he was trying to figure out every little mechanism that was taking place between his brain all the way to the fingers in order for them to move.

"Where's Granny?" She propped herself up on her elbows tiredly.

Ed's golden eyes met her blue ones for the first time since before his surgery had begun. "She went to bed. She told me I could wake you up if I needed anything."

"Do you?" She mumbled, trying to shake off her sleepiness.

"Catch me if I fall," he said after a moment's thought, scooting off the edge of the table before Winry could process what he was doing. He placed his mismatched feet firmly on the ground, testing his weight on them. He winced, and she could only imagine the spasms of pain that must be shooting up his leg.

"Don't—!"

He took a clumsy step forward and promptly fell to the ground with a grunt. She cringed. "Idiot. There's no way I could have caught you. You weigh like twice what you did yesterday."

A moment later he was pulling himself back up.

"Hey, hey, slow down there," she crouched next to him to help him get up and hobble over to the wheelchair. "Let me take you up to your bed. You need to give it time to heal before you try and walk, genius."

"I'm fine."

"You're not!" She let him collapse into the wheelchair on his own. When she saw that he looked like he was about to try to stand again she stood directly in front of the chair so he wouldn't have room.

"Move."

She shook her head. "Don't be stupid. You literally just had surgery a few hours ago."

Ed scowled. "I knew I should have tried it while you were still asleep."

* * *

Saturday brought Al back to Resembool and Winry was all too happy to see him. He had been nagging her every day via text about Ed's well-being, and she was glad to be able to give him proof that when she said he was fine she had not, in fact, been lying and secretly keeping him tied up in the basement.

The first thing Ed did when his brother entered the room was swing a punch straight at his head. Winry gaped and was about to yell at Ed and see if Al was alright when the latter brought an arm up immediately to block the blow and dropped into a crouch, swinging his leg out in front of him. Ed, who was still quite unsteady on his left foot, had his legs easily swept out from under him and landed in a heap.

Al rubbed his forearm. "Did you have to use the metal one?"

Ed pulled himself to his feet with a chuckle. "Don't expect me to go easy on you now, Alphonse."

Al smiled. "Pretty cocky statement from someone who just got knocked to the ground."

"Are you both insane?" Winry demanded, hands on her hips. "Ed, you haven't healed completely and you can barely walk! Al, don't badger me about Ed's health if you're just going to show up at my house and beat him up!"

"Oh, come on, I can't just sit around forever waiting to heal."

"That's exactly what you can do, and it hasn't even been a week! Edward," she walked up and pushed a firm hand against his chest. Ed let himself be pushed backward onto the bed. "Stay there and _talk_ to your brother like a normal person. Al," she whirled on the younger brother, who gave her a sheepish smile. "Don't let him do anything stupid."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Let me know if you need anything. I'll be downstairs."

"Yes, ma'am."

It was evening and Winry and Al found themselves alone in the living room. Ed had finally been persuaded to get some rest (meaning he had argued until he passed out from exhaustion) and her grandmother was in the shop.

"Thank you for taking good care of my brother, Winry," Al said earnestly, coming down from Ed's room.

"It's no problem," she answered and opened a window to let some air in. "I hope you were aware we'll be needing to keep him for a while longer. His body will take a while to completely heal—even longer if he keeps up this recklessness," she added, muttering. "After he's healed it will be safe to take him home, but he'll still need time to get accustomed to using his new limbs. They'll give him trouble and pain for a while. Full recovery from surgery and complete mastery of the use of the new automail usually takes about three years."

Al's eyes widened and she noticed for the first time that though they were the same shade as his brother's, their shape was something softer. "That long?"

She nodded. "Automail surgery is not a thing to be taken lightly."

Al sunk onto the couch, his shoulders slumping.

"Al..." She bit her lip. "If you don't mind me asking... What happened to Ed?"

"He didn't tell you?" Al looked over at her. "I guess that's not too surprising. My brother is a pretty private person."

"Oh, well, if he wouldn't want—"

"No, it's fine." He took a seat on the couch, not meeting her eye any more. He took a deep breath.

"It was my fault, really, what happened to him. We were walking along the street, headed to the library, and a driver on the street lost control of her car. The car was headed straight toward me, but my brother reacted quickly and pushed me out of the way." He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his thumbs. "He just wasn't quick enough to get himself out of the way, too."

Winry took in this new information in silence for a moment before frowning and crossing her arms over her chest. "That's not your fault."

He smiled sadly. She wondered if he had a smile that wasn't at least slightly tinged with sadness. "It's hard to believe that when your brother spends weeks in hospital and loses both an arm and a leg, while you get away without a scratch."

Winry was about to respond when he turned to her, his smile widening. "But I don't mean to sound all depressing, I really am pleased with how well Brother is doing. I can't thank you and your grandmother enough for what you've given him."

"Don't worry about that," she answered brightly. "That's what our business is for, and your pay is enough thanks."

When Al headed back to his home later that day, she couldn't help but wonder how Ed felt about the event that led to his injury. Admittedly she didn't know either one of them very well, but seeing the two of them interact, she couldn't imagine that Ed blamed his brother for what happened.

* * *

 

"Winry!"

The blonde started, having been absorbed with making beef stew. Or trying to, anyway. Her cooking skills were improving, but she still preferred her Granny's cooking over her own.

Den, lying at her feet as he always did when she cooked (undoubtedly hoping a bit of beef would accidentally find its way to the floor), seemed to have been roused by the sound as well. He lifted his head and cocked it to the side, staring in the direction of the living room.

Winry's brow furrowed. Was that Ed calling her? She realized belatedly that she'd never heard him say her name before. It sounded strange coming from him. She left the kitchen, a bit anxious. Had he fallen and hurt himself?

No, there he was, standing in the living room, perfectly fine.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, puzzled.

The boy nodded, his ponytail swishing slightly with the action. He walked from the couch he was standing next to across the room and over to the fireplace, each step deliberate. Then he turned around and walked back. Winry blinked.

Ed looked at her so eagerly and expectantly that she had to stifle a laugh, the image of Den waiting for a treat flashing in her mind. Is this why he'd called her out here, away from her dinner preparations? To show off how he could walk without falling?

Aw.

She smiled, proud of his progress but wondering what he expected her to do. Pat him on the head? Somehow she didn't think that would go over too well.

She did it anyway. "Good job, Ed!"

As expected, he shrunk away from her touch, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "What the— I'm not a _dog_ ," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm proud of you," she offered. She watched in mild fascination as his blush deepened.

"If I'd known you'd react like this, I wouldn't have called you out here."

"Well, why did you call me out here?" She asked, a bit of defensiveness in her tone but genuinely curious.

He huffed, his stance and expression the perfect picture of a petulant five-year-old. "Because... A few days ago... You said I could barely walk, remember? So..." He looked at her defiantly, a bit of smugness replacing the embarrassment she'd caused with her response to his performance. "I wanted you to see that I can."

She considered him a moment before crossing her arms to match his. "Beat Al in a fight, then you'll be off the hook."

She swept back into the kitchen with the image of a dumbstruck Ed burned into her mind and a triumphant smirk on her lips.

The days passed and turned into weeks; Al came, went, and came again; Ed kept slowly but surely healing despite his somewhat reckless behavior. He continued to infuriate Winry with rude remarks and stubborn behavior and inspired her respect every time he pulled himself to his feet after falling, never once complaining of the pain she knew he must still be feeling or the difficulty of mastering his new limbs.

Once in a generous moment she even commented on it. "You know, you don't have to act so tough all the time, like nothing hurts you. It's okay to admit you're in pain sometimes."

He waved it off, which she should have expected. "I have nothing to complain about. Better me than him." He didn't explain who he meant. He didn't have to.

"You know," she started again, "you're almost completely healed from the surgery. You've scarred nicely. You should be able to go home soon."

A light went on in his eyes that made her chest unpleasantly tight. "Really?"

Was he so eager to go home? Winry checked that thought immediately— _of course he's eager to go home, wouldn't you be?_

She wondered what he would do when he got home, how he would spend his time. She wondered, suddenly, what this boy's goals were, his dreams, what he valued most. What he thought about when he was cooped up in the house and his eyes had grown too weary to comprehend the text of the books she'd kept cycling through his room. Alphonse wasn't kidding when he'd said his brother was a private person. She wondered if she'd ever get the chance to know this boy enough to gain any answers to the things she wondered about.

"Really," she answered with a smile. "So be good and don't reopen any wounds or get any new ones."

He grinned—really grinned, the kind that gets your eyes caught up in the smile, an expression that had never previously been directed at her, only at Al. She had to remind herself to take a breath.

"No promises," he said, "especially if I have to hang around you and your wren—ai, back off, woman, remember the wounds!"

* * *

Winry had been out shopping for groceries for almost an hour when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

1:37 PM: hey, is it ok if I stop in for an overhaul sometime? 

1:37 PM: Paninya! It's been a while, dear. Yeah of course, nothing's wrong is it?

1:38 PM: nope just, as you said it's been a while. besides it gives me a good excuse to see you hun :) plus I know you want to ogle my sexy automail ;)

1:38 PM: _when will you be home?_

1:39 PM: I'm always home in the mornings and evenings. And if you come soon you'll be able to ogle our most recent patient. Ugh, I swear every time I look at his arm and leg I just want to take them apart. They're beautiful.

1:39 PM: Also his face. His face is beautiful. But I can't take credit for that.

1:43 PM: _ehh I'm not sure who you think this is..._

1:45 PM: .. Who is this?

1:48 PM: _I must have typed in the wrong number_

1:49 PM: Oh shoot. I was texting my friend and I thought you were her.

1:49 PM: _I'm a bit frightened. are you like some kind of sicko doctor?_

1:50 PM: OH MY GOSH

1:50 PM: I just reread that text oh my gosh I swear I'm not as creepy as it made me sound

1:50 PM: I'm an automail mechanic.

1:51 PM: _sure you are_

1:51 PM: Really!

1:51 PM: _either way I'm not sure I'd want to come near you_

1:52 PM: Don't worry, only people with automail are in danger from me.

1:53 PM: Oh man that sounded creepy too, didn't it?

1:55 PM: _that is in no way reassuring_

1:55 PM: _is this some kind of weird fetish_

1:56 PM: It's my profession!

1:56 PM: _whatever you say, automail freak_

1:57 PM: Oh great now even complete strangers are calling me that.

1:59 PM: _well what do you expect when you open a conversation with 'I want to take this guy's limbs apart'_

2:02 PM: Excuse me, I wasn't trying to open a conversation! It's not my fault you hit a wrong number!

2:07 PM: _it's not my fault you can't pay attention to who you're texting when you talk about your disturbing fetishes_

2:08 PM: Oh my gosh okay I'm not contributing to this conversation anymore

* * *

 

"Did she say when she'll be home?" Granny Pinako poked her head in the door of the living room. Ed started, flipping his phone shut. "Uh... No, she didn't answer."

* * *

 

2:43 PM: **Why didn't you just tell her who you were?**

2:44 PM: _don't be stupid, al! I couldn't just say, oh yeah you know that guy you were talking about, the one you said had a beautiful face? yeah, I'm that guy_

2:45 PM: _it's not even beautiful. my face is handsome_

2:48 PM: **I'm sure that's what she meant, Brother. Still, it doesn't seem right to not tell her.**

2:49 PM: _that's rich coming from the person who told her I got hit by a car_

2:53 PM: **You know that's different.**

2:58 PM: _I panicked, okay_

2:59 PM: _at least I'm coming home soon so I can stop getting all flustered every time I see her_

3:03 PM: **Aw.**

3:04 PM: _what do you mean aw? it's annoying_

3:39 PM: _HEY_

3:40 PM: _I hope you're not insinuating what I think you're insinuating, little brother_

3:59 PM: _DON'T IGNORE ME ALPHONSE_

4:04 PM: **I'm sure I have no idea what you think I could be insinuating, Brother.**

4:05 PM: **I'm glad you're coming home soon, too.**

4:05 PM: _don't try to turn this into some sweet brotherly moment you manipulative toad_

4:07 PM: **Aw come on, you know you can't wait to see my smiling face.**

4:08 PM: _what are you talking about I don't even like you_


	2. Chapter 2

Texting reminder:

Winry  
_Ed_  
**Al  
** Paninya

* * *

 

3:02 PM: hahahaha you texted that to a stranger?

3:03 PM: Kindly kill me now.

3:05 PM: no way, I wanna see how this plays out

3:07 PM: You're cruel. I doubt whoever it was will text me any more though.

3:09 PM: you should text him back

3:10 PM: What makes you think it was a him?

3:12 PM: true. just wishful thinking I guess

3:13 PM: I definitely want to meet this beautiful faced boy you speak of though

3:15 PM: please tell me you didn't make his automail cooler than mine

3:18 PM: Well I mean I am improving every time..

3:19 PM: NO. that's it you're making my automail all fancy and upgraded when I get there

3:20 PM: Sure thing dear. Just make sure you can foot the bill.

3:23 PM: dang. is pretty boy rich?

3:25 PM: I mean, I didn't make his automail fancy or anything, just highly functional. But probably.

3:26 PM: And get yourself over here if you want to meet him. He's leaving soon.

3:26 PM: dang

3:27 PM: He can be annoying though so maybe it's no big loss if you don't.

3:31 PM: I guess I'll have to see for myself

* * *

 "Any appointments for today?" Winry asked her granny as they sat at the breakfast table. Ed was upstairs packing and Al was due soon to come pick him up. She wasn't sure how she felt about the fact that Ed was leaving. While he could be stubborn and annoying, she'd gotten accustomed to his presence in the house and wasn't really looking forward to it being almost empty again.

"None, unless that girl Paninya comes by. Business has been light lately, hm? It's almost as if we're compensating for the booming business in the north."

Winry drew her eyebrows together. "Soldiers?"

Her grandmother nodded. "Losing limbs left and right. They're coming up with more and more combat-oriented designs every day."

The blonde stood up from the table, taking her granny's dishes and her own to the sink. "The war seems so far away, it's easy to forget about. Is Amestris really doing all right?"

"We've got nothing to worry about," Edward assured, coming in through the door and making himself comfortable on the edge of the table. He was wearing a white button down shirt and dark pants, a brown overcoat slung over his arm. Traveling clothes. "At least as far as winning the war is concerned. Drachma's got nothing on our technology."

"So many fights won through superior technology," Granny muttered.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Ed glanced at the old lady sidelong.

"It's good for us," she said.

"Yeah, well, we can't really afford to concern ourselves with what's good for the enemy," he chuckled.

"Ed," Winry cut in with a concerned glance at her grandmother and a small shake of her head. "Don't."

Ed frowned in confusion. "Wha–"

"No, he's right," Granny leaned against the counter, folding her hands in front of her. "You're too young to remember much about Ishbal, I suppose."

He raised an eyebrow. "I know it's the reason alchemists were banned from the battlefield."

Granny nodded. "And for good reason, too. Our military undoubtedly held the technological advantage, so much so that it couldn't even fairly be called a war even if you didn't take the state alchemists into account. Winry's parents were doctors and helped treat the wounded on the front lines. They treated anyone, Amestrians and Ishbalans alike. And they were killed. The official report is that they were murdered by one of their Ishbalan patients. There was also a rumor that our military saw their impartiality in choosing their patients as a nuisance and issued an order to have them killed." Her deathly calm eyes found Ed's troubled ones. "Either way, you're right. My son and his wife paid the price for concerning themselves with what's good for the enemy."

Ed's knuckles on his left hand were white from gripping the edge of the table.

"Winry? I believe you were about to do the dishes. And Ed, don't sit on the table like it's a chair."

Winry pulled herself together and stopped gawking at her grandmother. She hadn't heard the woman talk about her parents' death in a long time. "Right!" She took up the plate again.

Ed pushed himself off roughly from the table and was out of the room in an instant.

Winry's brow furrowed as she turned to look after his retreating back. She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that although he had been living with them for nearly a month, she had learned next to nothing about Ed's life.

* * *

 

 Al arrived shortly after noon. Winry was down working in the shop and was unaware of his arrival until she heard yelling outside and came up to see what all the racket was about.

Ed and Al were sparring in the front yard, which seemed to be a favorite activity of theirs whenever Al came to visit. Ed lost every time, but to his credit it took Al longer and longer to pin his older (yet slightly smaller, even if Ed would rather be force fed sour milk than admit it) brother down each time he came to visit. Winry was always concerned that Ed would overexert himself, but he seemed to consider fighting as the best indication of how well his recovery was progressing. And it wouldn't have anything to do with that little challenge she'd issued him earlier, would it? At the time challenging him to beat his little brother in a fight had just been a way to knock his ego down a notch. She almost regretted that little victory now as she cringed every time one of Al's attacks came anywhere near her beloved automail.

The agility and skill of both brothers never failed to impress her, and she wondered where they'd learned to fight like that. One time she'd asked and had only been rewarded with dark, shuddering mutters of _Sensei..._ on Ed's part and Al giving his brother a look Winry didn't know how to interpret. She hadn't been able to get anything else out of them and had grudgingly accepted the fact that the brothers did not like talking about their pasts.

Ed was currently dodging Al's onslaught with everything he had, twisting, ducking, even flipping to avoid him, though Winry noted gratefully that he seemed to be putting most of the weight of his landings on his flesh leg. Al's fist flew past Ed's face, barely missing it, and this time Ed grabbed his brother's elbow. A moment later he had maneuvered him into a headlock and looked like he was about to proudly crow victory when Al hooked his foot around the back of Ed's metal knee and jerked, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Al wasted no time and had his brother pinned in a moment.

He checked his watch as Ed grumbled underneath him. "That was a whole minute longer than last time."

"What's the point in having metal limbs if they're just gonna give out on you so easily..."

"Don't blame my automail for not supporting you when you don't even give yourself proper recovery time," Winry called from the doorway.

"This is how I recover!"

Al rolled off his brother and flopped onto the grass. "Are we really gonna have to wait three years before this is a fair fight again? I mean," he added quickly, "not that I mind, you need to take your time–"

"Three years! Ha!" Ed pulled himself to his feet. "That won't do. I'll give it a year at most."

Winry smiled softly and retreated into the house, glad that whatever had happened that morning, Ed was back to acting his old self.

A few minutes later the boys were inside and Ed was toting his brown leather suitcase down the stairs.

Granny emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron. "I hope you don't think you're leaving without lunch."

Ed grinned charmingly. "Don't worry yourself, Granny, we have a long drive ahead of us so we should get started as soon as possible. Besides, I've already imposed on you enough for a month–"

"So it won't make much difference whether you impose once more. Honestly, if you wanted an early start you should have left this morning and not waited so close to lunch time," Granny reasoned, turning back towards the kitchen. "It's almost like you planned it so that I'd invite you to stay for lunch, you freeloading boy."

"Well, if you insist, I guess I'm in no place to refuse," Ed cheerfully sat himself down at the table, shortly followed by Al and Winry.

Lunch passed in generally good spirits. Ed seemed to be eagerly looking forward to being home, and Winry reminded him that he still wasn't fully recovered and he needed to take it easy at home. She did wonder to herself, however, at what remarkable progress he had made in such a short time.

Eventually the time came for the brothers to leave. Al gave a scratch behind the ears to Den and a hug to both Granny and Winry, surprising the latter. Ed stood with his automail arm close to his chest and his other hand scratching an itch just under his ponytail.

"You remember what I showed you about proper oiling?" She asked, fist on the mechanic's jumpsuit tied around her waist.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off, face turned down and flushed.

"And Al, remember, don't let him do anything stupid and reckless. And both of you keep up with your studies!"

The two brothers shared a look that, aggravatingly, she couldn't read.

"Well, I'll be seeing you eventually when you come in for an overhaul," she moved on. "And you better not come to me sooner with a busted up automail!"

"Tch. Yeah, I definitely won't be missing this place," Ed scoffed, looking off to the side.

Winry scowled. She should have expected something like that from him, so why did those stupid, rude words from a stupid, rude boy manage to sting like that?

"Brother!" Al reproved the older blond and gave Winry an apologetic look. "Thank you again for everything you've done for my brother."

"Yeah..." Ed's hand was back to working on that itch. "We'll see you around."

Winry couldn't hold back a small chuckle even in her irritation, interpreting that 'yeah' as the closest thing to a 'thank you' she was going to get. "Yeah," she echoed.

And with that, they were gone.

* * *

Ed dropped his brown leather suitcase on the bed and peeled off his coat, taking in the minimal but sufficient furnishings of the bedroom. How long had it been since he last slept here for more than a night or two at a time? At least four months. It smelled more like Al's disinfectant than anything else now.

"Are you gonna visit the Colonel tomorrow?" Al asked from the doorway.

"Is he here?" Ed responded, surprised.

"Yeah, hasn't he been keeping you updated?" He looked confused.

"Well," the older blond chuckled. "He doesn't have my cell phone number and I didn't exactly tell him where I was going..."

"Brother! Why doesn't he have your phone number?"

"He'd abuse it. I don't want him to be able to keep tabs on me all the time."

"He _is_ your commanding officer."

"So? I don't need him bothering me." Ed perched on the end of his bed. "Did he say why he's here and not in the north?"

"His whole team got transferred back East," his brother looked a bit uneasy. "At least for now."

Ed narrowed his eyes at Al's fidgeting. "Do you know why?"

His brother sighed. "I haven't talked to him, but I have an idea..."

"Has something happened since I was in the hospital? Or did we..." A small ball of dread was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

"Get caught helping my team?" Al sighed again. "I don't know for sure, it's just an idea. I've been wanting to ask him about it, but I haven't seen him since the team first arrived on the train, and I don't think they saw me. I was just getting back from Resembool."

Ed nodded, letting himself flop backwards onto the bed. "I'll go see what's up tomorrow."

* * *

Winry opened the front door dazedly, having been roused from her basement by insistent knocking.

"Reporting for overhaul, sir." Paninya stood on the porch, hand raised in a mock salute.

"At ease," Winry rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. "Come on in, Paninya."

"So where is he?" Her friend went past her and into the hall.

"Ah, you just missed him by, oh, twenty minutes or so."

"Aw man," Paninya pouted then inspected her friend with a critical eye. "Is that why you look like that?"

"Like what?" Winry asked defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't know, like your puppy just ran away or something."

"I do not!"

"Do you have a picture?"

Winry's face morphed from scowling to confused. "Of?"

"Pretty boy! What's his name, anyway?"

"Oh, Ed? No, why would I take a picture of him?"

"Because he's pretty!" Paninya burst like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't have a camera, anyway."

"No? Shame," the brunette followed her hostess up the stairs and into her room, settling herself on the bed. "You know they have phones that have cameras in them now? I really want one."

Winry's eyes widened in interest. "How does that work?"

Paninya shrugged. "You're the technology expert, not me."

"If you get one–"

"Sure, you can take it apart," she conceded with a heavy sigh.

"I knew I made friends with you for a reason," Winry chirped, pulling her hair back in a green bandana. "Now let me take your legs off."

"And that is why I made friends with _you_." Paninya dangled her legs over the end of the bed. "You don't shy away from blurting out creepy things in the name of science."

"Yeah, yeah, you know you just want me for my skills," Winry crouched down and released the catches on her automail. Hearing her friend's cry of pain, she decided to try and keep her talking until it subsided. "Wonderfully, you're not the first person to call me creepy this week."

The brunette laughed weakly. "That person who misdialed you?"

"Mhm."

"You're still thinking about that?"

"Well, you reminded me. It was embarrassing!"

Paninya hummed and fell backwards on the bed, wiggling her stump legs in the air. "Am I cute yet?"

"Mm, so attractive." Winry hauled the automail up on her desk and began inspecting it.

The brunette rolled over on her side. "So since I'm stuck here on your bed, helpless and disabled, you might as well entertain me. Tell me about him."

"Who?" The mechanic asked with feigned innocence. She smiled mischievously, glad her back was to her friend.

"The führer," Paninya deadpanned. "Who do you think? Ed!"

"I thought I already did. He's cute, rude... End of story."

"How long was he here?"

"Almost a month."

"That long, and you don't have anything else to say?" Winry could almost see the disbelieving look her friend must be sending her way.

"Well, he kept to himself," Winry said as she checked a screw. "Pretty evasive about his past. Honestly I don't know much about him."

"Ooh, the mysterious type."

"More like the overly touchy type. But I guess it amounts to the same result: basically all I can tell is he goes through books like toilet paper, makes my trips to the market feel like I'm stocking up supplies for a bomb shelter, and is pretty highly trained in martial arts."

"Now we're getting somewhere. Sounds like there's a little more to pretty boy than just cute and rude."

"Maybe you should date him, 'Ninya," Winry suggested, amused.

"Yeah. We could bond over our lack of leg."

"Not the worst basis for a relationship I've ever heard."

* * *

 

The water in the pot started to boil, and Alphonse stirred the noodles a bit. He'd had the idea to cook something really special for his brother as a sort of welcome home, before he remembered his cooking repertoire was rather limited. But Ed wasn't a gourmet (the only thing Al could remember him ever turning his nose up at was milk) and Al figured he'd like noodles as much as anything else, so noodles it was.

"Anything I can help with?"

Ed stood in the entryway to the kitchen. Al jerked his chin toward the cupboard closest to the sink.

"You could get bowls and glasses."

Al could hear his brother's metal foot clink against the tile floor as he moved behind him. The clink stopped for a moment before it was replaced with an earsplitting crash.

After he was confident that his heart had resumed beating, Al turned to see his brother staring down at the shattered remains of what must have been a drinking glass. In his left hand he held two plates.

Ed raised his eyes from the glass to his metal right arm and then up to his brother's face. A sheepish smile crept over his own.

"I can throw a punch, but apparently not hold a glass."

Al chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Holding a glass takes finer motor skills than throwing a punch. You remember where the broom is, right?"

Ed stared blankly. "We have a broom?"

"In the closet leaning against the wall," Al said with a shake of his head, turning back to the noodles.

The dull clanking behind him started again, faded, and came back. At least while Ed had his shoes off, he would be easy to keep track of.

"I can't feel it."

Al turned his head questioningly. Ed wasn't looking at him; he was concentrating on sweeping up the shards.

"I can't feel the fingers touching things, so it makes it difficult to gauge how much pressure to use when holding objects. It's taking longer than I thought to get used to."

"It's only been a month. Winry said–"

"I know what Winry said." The broom's sweeps became a tad more vigorous. "I can't lose that much time."

"You almost sound like you _want_ to go back and fight in the war. That's not how it seemed when you first got your orders."

Ed huffed. "I don't want to _not_ fight just because I got injured. When we were helping your team, that was worth something. And it's not just the war. Hopefully that will be over soon."

He swept and Al stirred in silence for a moment before Ed spoke again.

"What about you? What are you going to do after your class is done?"

Al considered his words carefully. "Most of the team stayed up there. Mei keeps saying she wants me to go back..."

"Whatever you decide, don't stay here for my sake."

Al turned and leaned back on the stove.

"But–"

" _Don't._ " His older brother fixed him with a look that Al knew would be pointless to argue with. He then looked down at his little pile of broken glass. "We should really invest in a dustpan."

Al hummed in agreement as Ed set to work improvising, grabbing a paper towel and sweeping the glass onto it before carefully depositing it into the trash. He got a second drinking glass, this time using his left hand.

Once the noodles finished cooking and were seasoned, the brothers ate, between them consuming a serving size recommended for a whole family. If anyone else had been present they likely would have gawked at the two boys' appetites, much like Winry and her grandmother had the first time the two boys had eaten with them, but to the brothers this was normal routine and there was no one there to cast their judgement.

They didn't resume their previous conversation, but as Al rinsed out his bowl he couldn't help thinking about it. Thoughts of the war and his team led him to recollecting the cause of his brother's mutilation, nearly two months earlier. It had not been, as he'd told Winry, a car accident, and while he still felt a twinge of guilt about that lie, he knew it had been for the best.

* * *

 

_Approximately two months earlier_

Alphonse Elric handed an elixir to the doctor on his right, who quickly applied it to the soldier's wound. In a moment the bleeding slowed, but the wound in the man's side was too severe to be completely deterred that easily. The rest would be left to the capable hands of this doctor. Al was confident that the man would be okay.

He moved on, offering aid where needed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mei Chang applying markers around the points of the purification circle she'd drawn on the floor. The man lying in the middle had a dangerous looking wound in his throat and was staring fearfully up at Mei. Al knew most of Amestris' soldiers were unfamiliar with Alkahestry and so his apprehension was understandable, but he also knew the man was in no position to refuse the help.

Al rubbed his hands together before cupping them in front of his face and blowing. The effect wasn't very satisfying considering he was wearing surgical gloves. Keeping warm for those unaccustomed to the harsh Drachman climate was no easy task. He peeled the gloves off and replaced them with fresh ones.

The two of them, Al and Mei, were part of a small group of Alkahestry students who had decided to come north to aid in the war effort. Even though they were merely students, once they had demonstrated to the medics who had set up their clinics near the battlefield how useful their art could be, they had been welcomed by some of them. However, there were still many who were unwilling to accept assistance from nonprofessionals of a dubious practice, so those who had been willing to let them help had set up a separate medical tent and the students were now working exclusively with them in that clinic.

While Mei's technique was more hands-on and direct, Al's greatest strength in the art lay in concocting elixirs. His knowledge of alchemy proved quite useful in the chemical aspect of the science, and he felt more comfortable offering solutions that he had already carefully tested in a lab to the hurt soldiers, rather than relying on reading the dragon's pulse in their bodies and acting accordingly under pressure, an ability that Mei was excellent at but that the young Amestrian had less confidence in.

The tent flap was opened to admit another patient. Al caught a glimpse of his brother standing outside with his arms crossed over his chest, keeping watch. After hearing increasing reports of the Drachmans targeting medical units, Colonel Mustang had decided to station his men as guards of the various medical tents in the area. Naturally, Ed insisted on being assigned to this one.

The plan was for the Colonel to gather his subordinates and escort the team of medical students to safety at the end of the day. He was currently on an assignment to reduce the enemy's stock of supplies. He knew that should be a piece of cake for the Flame Alchemist, but Al couldn't help but be slightly worried. Everything about the secretive assignments the state alchemists had been issued in the war put him on edge.

Officially, after what had happened in Ishbal came to light and caused outrage and dissent among a small but loud organization of citizens of Amestris, the führer had made a promise to his people to keep the state alchemists off the battlefield and only use them for their regular peacetime missions. While Al agreed with the general sentiment of the outspoken protestors that using alchemy against a mostly defenseless people group that shunned the art was cruel, he doubted that most Amestrian citizens would be against the use of alchemists in battle if they thought they would lose without them. The protest and the resulting promise of the führer were largely political, an attempt to appear as though the country was making an effort to reconcile with the people group they had so thoroughly wronged.

As it turned out, those in the military had known all along the führer never meant to keep his public promise, but the civilian population was kept carefully in the dark.

That was why when the state alchemists had been ordered to the battlefield of the current war with Drachma, it was understood that everything they did must be hidden from the citizens of their own country. The führer had no desire to break the trust of his citizens by appearing to go back on his word, even if most of the population probably couldn't care less whether state alchemists were involved or not.

A gust of wind had caught the tent flap, keeping it standing open and letting in an unwelcome blast of cold. Ed moved to close it before he suddenly stood up straight, his posture tensing. A moment later he was out of Al's limited view. Al pushed the bubble of alarm forming in his gut down and approached the still-open entrance.

By the time he could tell what was going on, Ed was already in the middle of a fight with two Drachman soldiers. They must have initially had guns, but Ed had quickly disarmed one and somehow had managed to redirect the other's so that he shot himself in the foot. Al knew Ed was armed with his own gun, but the likelihood of him actually pulling it out to use was slim.

The first man ignored the pained yell of his comrade and lunged for Ed, but the blond quickly dropped to the ground, hands together, before placing them on the rocky terrain. A crackle of energy, and then a slab of rock rose up from the ground and slammed into the man's side, knocking him flat.

And then Ed noticed his brother standing in the tent's entrance. He gave him a cocky, reassuring grin, knowing the younger was ready to step in at any sign that Ed was in danger of losing this fight.

"I've got it, Al!" As he said the words he sent a kick to the stomach of the man who'd shot his foot. "Go–" A quick punch. "–take care of your patients!"

Indeed, it did look like the situation was under control. Al couldn't help but be concerned though, where had the men come from and why were there only two? Maybe they had heard this unit was only guarded by one man, and thought it would be easy pickings, not knowing that soldier was a skilled alchemist and martial artist. He hesitated, wanting to make sure the men were taken care of before he went back inside, but changed his mind at a voice from within the tent.

"Alphonse! Could I get some help here?"

"Right!" He had his own job to do here, so he would let his brother do his. He turned to go back inside, his mind back on Alkahestry, when he was flooded with a sudden, acute awareness, an occurrence that he had been struggling with accustoming himself to over the past few years. To Mei he knew the feeling was a calm constant, something she could pay attention to or not at will, but for him the awareness still came in unexpected waves.

Alkahestry–the dragon's pulse–With his mind on that subject, he could feel the life energy of the people in the tent before him, moving in a conglomeration of individual pulses. The sensation was stronger than he usually could manage to conjure even with concentration. Behind him, he felt the vibrant energy of his brother struggling with two others, the three moving in a tangled dance.

And a fourth, rapidly moving towards the other three.

Before he could turn, before he could form the beginnings of a warning in his throat, Al's ears were accosted with a deafening explosion.

The shouts of surprise and alarm from within the tent were completely lost to the younger brother, his head still ringing from the bang and his mind completely elsewhere. His feet moved of their own accord, propelling him towards the source of the sound, the source of the danger, but he couldn't care less about that because his _brother_ was there.

He tripped on the uneven ground, scraping his hand as he broke his fall, but the stinging didn't register as he stared at the scene in front of him.

Three bodies lay on the ground, their blood mingling and rapidly forming a pool around them.

"Drachman soldiers," a voice drawled, and Al was dimly conscious of a tall man standing over the other three, but not so near as to sully his white shoes with their blood. "They've been taken care of; your little medical unit has no need to worry."

Al wanted to get up, wanted to get closer, wanted to get farther away, wanted to punch the tall man in the face, wanted to scream, _That's not a Drachman soldier, you idiot, that's my brother!_

He stayed half sprawled on the ground, staring at what lay in front of him and shaking so violently his teeth chattered, only this time it wasn't from the cold.

A blond braid dipped in crimson.

A tanned arm lying closer to Alphonse than to its owner.

Al retched. 

* * *

_Present_

Paninya clenched her teeth, a muffled cry escaping as her leg involuntarily jerked at the reconnection of the nerves. Winry winced sympathetically. This evitable part of overhaul was never fun.

Thankfully it didn't last too long, and after a little recovery Paninya was back on her feet, hurriedly wiping a rogue tear that has escaped her eye. She took a few experimental steps around the room and grinned.

"Thank you! Even though you didn't add the carbine we talked about..." She pouted at Winry.

"Winry knows I'd have her head if she touched any of my weapons without my permission," Granny said as she tidied up the room.

"So do you give your permission?" The dark-haired teen asked brightly.

"No."

The two girls sighed forlornly.

"What's the point of being both a weaponsmith and an automail surgeon if you won't combine the two?" Paninya whined. "So many opportunities missed..."

"What would a teenage girl want with firearms in her legs?" Granny muttered before shooing them both out of the clinic.

"Are you staying?" Winry asked her friend, leading them back into the living room.

"Mm. Train to Rush Valley doesn't come by until the day after tomorrow."

"I'll go make up the guest room, then!"

Upstairs, she entered Ed's– _the guest room_ –and surveyed what needed to be done.

She gathered the books that had been strewn across the room with a shake of her head and a small smile, putting the stack on the end of the dresser. Next she stripped the bed of its sheets and balled them up.

She started to shake the pillow out of its pillowcase when a stain caught her eye. It was a bit faded, like someone had tried to get it out but hadn't quite succeeded. It was brown and looked like...

Dried blood.

Winry frowned. The pillowcase had been clean before she put it out for Ed, hadn't it? So the stain must have come from him. Maybe his shoulder wound had opened back when he first got here. She balled the case up along with the rest of the bedding, reminding herself to find some bleach and wash it separately.

* * *

 

9:03 PM: _so tell me more about this patient that's caught your interest_

9:09 PM: Oh my gosh.

9:10 PM: Are you actually going to keep this texting thing going?

9:12 PM: _recent events have made it so that I don't have much else to do_

9:13 PM: I never said he caught my interest, just his automail.

9:13 PM: _and his face_

9:14 PM: Yeah, okay, his face is pretty gorgeous.

9:16 PM: Okay, maybe he has caught my interest a teeny bit.

9:16 PM: I could do without his attitude, though.

9:17 PM: Why am I even telling you this? I don't know a single thing about you. You could be a 60 year old man sitting in your creepy basement.

9:20 PM: _ouch_

9:21 PM: Actually I take that back, considering I'm currently sitting in the basement and there are limbs literally hanging on the walls.

9:22 PM: _the first step is admitting you have a problem_

9:22 PM: This is my job, I swear!

9:36 PM: _I'm actually a 17 year old boy, does that help?_

9:40 PM: A bit.

9:42 PM: I am too. 17, I mean. But a girl.

9:42 PM: _I could have sworn you were a 60 year old sicko doctor dissecting patients in your creepy basement_

9:43 PM: You're not gonna let that go, are you? Why did you text me again if you thought I was a creepy old doctor, hm?

9:45 PM: _just to add a healthy level of risk to my grey and dreary life. wouldn't wanna get too comfortable. and I told you, I really don't have many other options of how to spend my time right now_

9:45 PM: And why's that?

9:48 PM: _doctor's orders. you wouldn't deny an invalid his only diversion, would you? I might even be dying_

9:52 PM: Wait, that's a joke, right? You're not really dying, are you?

9:59 PM: _all right, you got me._

10:00 PM: Don't do that!

* * *

 

"Al, do I have an attitude?"

"Is that a serious question? Hey–ow! See, this is what people mean, Brother."


	3. Chapter 3

The atmosphere in Colonel Roy Mustang's outer office was peaceful. Falman and Breda were slowly making their way through paperwork, Fuery was tinkering with something on his desk, Havoc was drooling on his, and the Lieutenant seemed to have stepped out for a bit.

Ed watched them silently from the doorway for a moment, his lips twitching upward in mild amusement. It was almost enough to make him forget that all of them had been fighting and risking their lives up in Drachma merely two months ago. If he hadn't known better he'd have assumed they'd never left East City. It was almost surreal; there had been times in the fear and heat of battle when he had thought he'd never see this office again. In those moments he'd been surprised to find that he _wanted_ to see the place again. This was the place where he'd always had to submit those endless mission reports and be antagonized by the stupid, arrogant Colonel. Funny how life and death situations can make the most unlikely places seem like home.

"Had enough excitement, huh? Back to the humdrum of paperwork?" He stepped through the open doorway, sweeping his red cloak aside to shove his hands into his pockets.

All sound in the office stopped save Havoc's light snoring as every eye snapped to the boy who just entered (save Havoc's still closed ones). Edward basked for a moment in the knowledge that he'd thoroughly surprised them.

Breda was the first to break the tension, barking out a laugh. "Finally decided to show your face, eh?" He shoved Havoc roughly on the shoulder. "Wake up, Jean, it's the chief!"

Havoc snorted and sat up, a line of drool still connecting his mouth to the desk. He wiped it absently before his eyes fell on Edward and he blinked, now fully awake and wide-eyed.

Ed chuckled and came further into the room. "Yo," he greeted the still slightly dazed Havoc. It was Fuery who spoke next.

"You're standing..."

All eyes were now on Ed's legs and the young alchemist was even further amused that it took Fuery pointing it out for them to notice.

Breda's eyes widened in understanding. "So that's where you ran off too... We kinda half figured you'd deserted."

"Seriously?" Ed scoffed. "No way you're getting rid of me that easily."

"Technically you did desert," Havoc spoke up. "Disappearing from the hospital like that without telling anyone... The boss is gonna have your head."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Automail, huh?" Breda gave a low whistle. "Your arm, too?"

"Can we see?"

"I'm sure Edward would appreciate it if you all would mind your own business and get back to work," Lieutenant Hawkeye entered through the door behind Ed, a stack of paperwork in her arms.

"Oh, come on, Hawkeye," Havoc grumbled, arms crossed. "Can't you act even a little surprised that the chief shows up with automail out of nowhere after somehow sneaking out of the hospital over a month ago missing two limbs?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure what went through your minds, but it certainly was not the first time he'd left a hospital before being officially released. Given Edward's condition at the time, Alphonse clearly had a hand in that, and in this case it was obvious what they meant to go do." The first lieutenant shifted the paperwork in her arms but did not set it down, making it clear that she had no intention of staying to chat for long. "Besides the fact that the Edward Elric I know would never settle for being an invalid the rest of his life, if he had taken no action he would have been unable to effectively complete his missions and would have been discharged from the military. That being said, though I am surprised that you are up and about so soon after surgery, Edward, I am very pleased to see that you are doing well." She gave him a nod and Ed returned it with a slight smile.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"I'm sure the Colonel will want to see you immediately," she added as she headed for said Colonel's door. "I'll let him know you're here."

Ed made to follow her. "Why don't I just go in with–"

"I'll let him know you're here."

The door to their commanding officer's inner office was opened and shut before Ed could utter a word in protest. He crossed his arms and faced the outer office, not too surprised to see that everyone was staring at him again, but what did surprise him was the look of mild awe and even respect on their faces. He frowned, wondering what that was about, when Falman spoke up for the first time since Ed had entered, a bit of genuine concern creeping into his voice.

"The surgery... Is it as horrible as they say?"

Well, yes. It was. But he didn't want to seem like he was playing it up. He'd endure worse if it meant Al would stay safe. That was his one consolation–that he hadn't let Al come out of his medical tent to help him fight.

He shifted from one foot to the other, not sure how to respond. Thankfully, he was once again saved by Hawkeye.

"The Colonel will see you now."

"Right." Ed wasted no time in getting through the door this time.

Colonel Mustang was sitting behind his desk, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything when Ed entered, seemingly content to see what Edward had to say for himself.

Well, Ed wasn't here to defend himself to anyone.

"How come you're back East?" He asked without preamble.

The Colonel stood from his desk. "Before we get into that, I'd like to know exactly where you've been for the past month."

"Resembool."

That seemed to surprise the man a bit, both the fact that Ed had answered so willingly and the answer itself. He raised an eyebrow. "Your hometown? Was there an old family friend there, someone you trust?"

"Not exactly. Back when me an' Al lived there, there was a weaponsmith and surgeon that was pretty well known in the area. We'd never actually met, but from what we had heard she was pretty reliable, so we went to her. Her granddaughter's living with her now, she was the one who ended up being my mechanic."

Ed had assumed that Mustang had come to the same conclusions as Hawkeye about his intentions upon leaving the hospital, and sure enough the Colonel did not seem surprised by his indirect reference to automail, or the fact that he was moving around with four fairly functional limbs.

He nodded slowly. "Are this surgeon and her granddaughter aware of your connection to the military?"

Ed shook his head. "That was the reason we bothered going so far south–no one down there associates me with the state alchemists, and we made sure not to mention it."

The Colonel nodded again, seeming to recognize the wisdom behind Ed's brash actions. If the Rockbells had known he was military, they would be suspicious that his injury was war-related, which would obviously be troublesome since state alchemists legally were not being used as weapons by the government. "Good."

Ed narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're being awfully understanding... Aren't you gonna rag on me for breaking the rules again?"

The black-haired man smirked. "Perhaps I've finally realised you're a lost cause. Now back to your question: my team has been temporarily suspended from battle for not upholding the secrecy of our operations. Not necessarily as punishment, since I think you'd agree being removed from a battlefield is neither of our definitions of punishment, but rather as a way to keep track of us while they decide how best to punish us. Namely, me."

Ed frowned. Though he wasn't blind to the Colonel's less than subtle subject change, he'd follow his lead for now. "They worried Al and his team are gonna rat us out?"

The Colonel nodded. "Something like that. Since the medical students are civilians, they should never have been let in on the fact that state alchemists such as you and I are active on the battlefield."

Ed snorted in disgust. "Yeah, better to leave them unprotected then let them know there's someone looking out for them."

"It's an arbitrary rule at this point, but a rule nonetheless. I was aware of the risks when I assigned you to that unit. Though the whole thing would have been easier to pull off if you hadn't gotten yourself blown up."

Ah, there was the bastard Ed was used to dealing with. He straightened up taller. "Well at least this time the mess I made was because I was following your orders."

Ed waited for a returning jab from the Colonel, maybe something about his incompetence, but it didn't come. Geez, what was with him today?

"You're right," he said instead, his hands splayed on the top of his desk. "You were following my orders." He sat back down while Ed stared at him. "You'll be out of commission for the remainder of your recovery. Feel free to continue your research in the city as long as it doesn't hinder your recovery, but don't leave East City without clearing it with me first. If you have no further questions, you may go, Fullmetal."

Ed wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Had the Colonel just said he was _right_? There was something weird going on here, something he was missing… But he knew when he was being dismissed, so he turned to go with a weak, "Right."

In the outer office it was quiet in the hushed way that suggested the occupants had been talking merely moments before Ed opened the door. The blond ignored most of them and sought out Hawkeye, figuring if anyone understood the odd behavior of their commanding officer, it would be his first Lieutenant.

He walked straight up to her, crossing his arms over his chest. His automail arm was an uncomfortable weight pressing down against his left one, but he ignored it. He was having to ignore a lot of inconveniences that arm was causing him, hoping they would all become less noticeable with time.

"The Colonel's being weird. He didn't give me hell. He hardly even seemed upset."

Hawkeye turned her head only slightly away from her work. "I would have thought you'd be happier about that."

Ed just gave her a hard stare. After a few moments she turned to fully face him, her demeanor slightly softening but still professional. She seemed to understand that he was requesting an explanation from her, because she started, "With what happened in Drachma, you gave us all quite a scare. There were times, out on the field in that medical tent and even later in the hospital, where we weren't sure you would pull through."

Ed blinked at her. When she said 'us all,' was she meaning to include the Colonel? He gave _Mustang_ a scare? Ed had known on a vaguely theoretical level that the Colonel cared about his subordinates, but he never really thought that courtesy extended to him.

Hawkeye seemed to guess his thoughts. "In a way the Colonel feels responsible. He is in no way to blame for what happened, of course, but you were under his orders when it happened." She shifted her body more towards her desk to show that was all she had to say on the matter and that she was getting back to work. "If I were you I would be grateful he isn't pressing the matter of your unofficial exit from the hospital and leave it at that."

Ed deflated a bit and was suddenly aware that the other occupants of the office were watching the two of them. A quick glare around the room took care of that. He nodded jerkily at the blonde woman in front of him. "I'll see you later, Lieutenant."

* * *

 

 Ed was sitting on the edge of his bed, carefully following the oiling procedure Winry had instructed him in multiple times, when Al got home from class. The younger wandered into the room the two of them shared, sitting cross-legged on his own bed and watching in interest. Ed wondered if he minded the fact that the apartment that typically had a newly-sterilized scent from whatever recent biological project or experiment Al had been working on now smelled primarily of machine oil. He knew Al would never complain even if it did bother him, though.

Ed told him about his conversation with the Colonel that morning. Al took it calmly but with a tinge of remorse, having suspected that his team had landed Colonel Mustang's in trouble. Of course, it was no use telling him that it wasn't their fault at all, that involving himself and his team with the medical students had been the Colonel's decision. Al already knew that, so they passed a few minutes in companionable silence as he watched his older brother do his maintenance in mild fascination.

"What happened there?"

Ed glanced up and realized Al was looking at the broken skin on the lower palm of his left hand. It wasn't bleeding anymore but it was still pretty scraped up. "I tripped," he answered, a bit embarrassed. Having a steel left leg certainly threw off his normal stride, and he still hadn't managed to adjust very well. "Don't worry, I got it all cleaned up earlier."

Al hummed in acknowledgement. Ed focused back on lubricating the joint of his knee.

"Speaking of cleaning up blood," Al spoke up again, "Did you run into any problems with your… condition, at the Rockbells? I forgot to ask the last time I went over there, to pick you up."

The older blond made a face. "You make it sound like I'm pregnant." When Al only waited for him to continue, he shook his head, remembering his and Al's worry that Winry and Granny would see the evidence of his greatest mistake. "It only happened once when I was with Granny–never when Winry was around, thankfully. I tried to pass it off as bronchitis, but I don't think the old lady bought it since I hadn't been coughing a bunch before. But she seemed more concerned and disapproving than suspicious. Maybe she thought I was doing cocaine or something." Al snorted lightly. "The other time that I told you about," Ed continued, "No one was home, so I was able to clean up before anyone noticed."

Al nodded but didn't say anything. Ed glanced up from his automail, eyeing his brother. He was biting his lip, looking troubled about something, but before Ed could say anything about it he brightened and swung his legs off the end of the bed. "I'm gonna go to the market. Need anything in particular?"

Ed considered asking him what he had been thinking about, since it seemed like more than just Al's usual concern for his brother's well-being, but he figured if it was really important Al would tell him eventually. He shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. I think I'll head to the library."

Al frowned. "You've already read every book in East's library."

"Do you have a better idea of how to spend my time while I'm stuck in this city?" His voice tightened towards the end of his question as a sliver of pain shot down from his shoulder into his automail arm. He knew logically that arm couldn't feel anything, but sometimes it still felt like there was an actual limb with nerves attached there. Winry had explained that that was a normal phenomenon for amputees, but it didn't make it any less disturbing when it happened. He did his best not to wince and glared weakly up at Al. "Maybe there's something I missed."

After a moment Al nodded. "Alright. I'll probably stop by there on my way home."

Ed grunted and put away his oil before the boys parted ways. 

* * *

Al brought the melon in his hands up to his nose and sniffed. He couldn't smell anything. A friendly old woman had told him once while he was out shopping that if a melon smelled like a melon, then it was ripe. He wondered idly if his mother had had any special tricks for buying produce. Maybe grocery shopping would be easier if he could remember. _Maybe it would be more painful, too._

He put the melon back and tried another one.

"Ah, Alphonse. I thought you might be in town."

Al flinched in surprise, nearly dropping his melon. When he recovered it he glanced over to see Colonel Mustang, looking mildly amused.

"Good afternoon, sir!" Al blinked at the man. He was dressed in a black coat over a steel grey button-down and dark pants, and Alphonse couldn't remember him ever looking so...civilian. He was now inspecting a bin of fresh strawberries and Al had to smile a bit at the sight of the powerful Colonel doing something as domestic as grocery shopping.

Mustang nodded his head in response to his greeting. "How is your class going?"

"It's–" he stopped before the automatic response of 'going well' could get past his lips, and sighed. "Painfully slow, actually."

The Colonel chuckled as he put some strawberries in a sack. "Not enough intellectual fodder to satisfy an Elric genius, hm?"

Al shrugged, neither accepting the casually thrown in complement nor rejecting it. "I asked the professor if he could use his connections in Xing to get us some more books, but he seems reluctant. I think I might just drop it. I've learned more on my own and with the help of one of the other students than I have from the professor. The other student, she's from Xing too, and she's basically an expert, I'm not sure why she's even taking–" He stopped himself short and grimaced. "Sorry, you didn't ask about all that."

Mustang smiled patiently. "There isn't much literature in Amestris dealing with Alkahestry specifically, but if you don't mind trying a slightly different approach, I'm still keeping an eye out for any biological alchemical research."

Al grinned gratefully. He was willing to try almost any approach. "Thank you, sir."

A few paces away from the produce stands, there was a restaurant with outdoor seating that the Colonel seemed to be eyeing. "While we're both here," he said, nodding his head toward one of the tables. "There was something I've been meaning to talk with you about. That is, if you can spare a minute."

"O-of course, sir," Al replied, following the Colonel over to one of the tables. A waiter was upon them in an instant, and the Colonel ordered them both coffee, more as permission to sit at the table than any real desire for a drink, Al supposed.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes has been continuing the investigation up north to find who was responsible for the attack on your brother and the two Drachman soldiers," Mustang began without preamble. Al sat up a little straighter in his seat. "From what you and the few doctors who saw him have described to Investigations, combined with the nature of the attack, we have a fairly good guess of who it was."

Al figured the doctors must have gotten a better look than he had, because he hadn't been able to tell Investigations much at all. All he could remember clearly was a lazily cruel voice and spotless white shoes amidst the sea of red. He swallowed hard. "Who?"

"Solf J. Kimblee." Colonel Mustang ground out the word as if it tasted bitter in his mouth. "Besides the purely physical descriptions, Kimblee has a...distinctive type of combat alchemy involving localized explosions."

That certainly did match up with what happened to his brother. Al stared at the tabletop. "An alchemist did this?" He glanced back up at the Colonel, remembering his tone as he'd said the man's name. "You seem to know him, sir. He's military?"

Mustang nodded. "A state alchemist."

"Not for long, right? His alchemy should be enough for Mr. Hughes to get him in jail."

Mustang leaned back in his chair, looking irritated. "The problem is, even if Investigations proves it was him, they can't exactly charge him with anything since the bomb killed one of the Drachmans and severely injured the other. It did what it should have been doing, it hurt the enemy. As far as the law is concerned, your brother is just unfortunate collateral damage."

"So why was there ever an investigation in the first place?" Al asked, unable to keep his growing anger from seeping into the question.

The waiter chose that moment to bring them their coffee, and Mustang thanked him and took a long sip, waiting until he had gone to respond. Al unclenched his fists and cupped his cold hands on the steaming cup, trying to relax, but the next words out of the Colonel's mouth made that nearly impossible.

"We're not entirely sure it was simply an accident that your brother was caught up in the line of fire."

Al froze. Not an accident? But that meant…

"You think the attack was targeted at my brother?"

"Not at Fullmetal necessarily…" Frown lines were beginning to pucker Mustang's brow, and he rubbed at them in vexation. "It's possible, yes. But Hughes and I both fought alongside Kimblee during Ishval, and he…" The bitterness was back in his voice, along with a dark gleam in his eyes that Al wouldn't mind never seeing again. "All I'm saying is, Kimblee's the type of person who doesn't much care whose blood is being spilled, as long as someone's bleeding."

Al suppressed a shudder. Someone like that was a state alchemist? Someone like that was the reason his brother was now disabled?

Al tried to take slow, steady breaths to keep a rein on his anger. It wouldn't do any good to blow up at the Colonel.

"Where is Kimblee now?"

"He's still in Drachma. Investigations is doing its best to keep an eye on him to make sure that this 'unfortunate' incident doesn't 'coincidentally' have a repeat." Al wasn't looking at him, but it was obvious from Mustang's voice how he felt on the subject. It was somewhat morbidly fascinating to witness the Colonel not hiding behind the cool facade he donned at work in the presence of other military personnel, actually allowing himself to get worked up about something for once.

"Thank you for telling me, sir," Al said tightly, his temple resting on his clenched fist.

The Colonel nodded and stood rather abruptly. "I should let you finish what you were doing," he said, and after another short nod Al was alone with his still-untouched coffee. He stared into it for a moment before sighing and taking a drink. 

* * *

It had been far too long since Edward had been in a library. The minute he stepped inside he could feel his muscles, which had been tightly wound for months from the strain of recovery, and before that the tension of war, begin to relax. He walked up to the nearest shelf of alchemy-related books and took books off the shelf at random, figuring since he'd read them already he'd be just as likely to get something out of one of them as any other.

Settling into a chair at a table near the wall surrounded by a stack of books felt as natural as breathing, and Edward soon lost himself in the pages. So when he had finished one book and was reaching for the next, he was surprised to see a message notification light flashing on his phone. He opened it, thinking Al must need something, certainly not expecting to read the question that shone innocently on his screen.

4:29 PM: What's your favorite color?

It was from Winry. She had never initiated texting him before. He blinked at the question for a moment before typing back an intelligent response.

4:58 PM: _what?_

4:59 PM: Your favorite color!

5:01 PM: _uhh red I guess_

5:01 PM: Mine's green. Your turn.

5:03 PM: _my turn for what?_

5:04 PM: Asking a question. As a sort of getting-to-know-you type thing.

5:07 PM: _good grief..._

5:08 PM: Hey, business is slow. Indulge me.

5:12 PM: _I'm still not convinced you actually run a business..._

5:12 PM: JUST ASK A QUESTION

5:16 PM: _okay, okay! geez..._

5:19 PM: Keep in mind that whatever question you ask me, you'll have to answer it, too.

5:20 PM: _now there are rules?_

5:22 PM: _ok let's see... got any weird phobias?_

The other chair at his table was suddenly occupied by Jean Havoc, who plopped down without ceremony and stretched himself out lazily, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He jerked his chin at Ed in greeting.

Ed stared at him for a moment. "Are you lost?"

Havoc glared without any real venom. "Ha, ha. Is it so hard to believe that I came here to read just like anyone else?"

Ed didn't think that required a response, especially considering the fact that Havoc didn't have a book with him. Sure enough, after a few moments, Havoc relented, leaning forward heavily on the table.

"Alright, fine. I'm hiding. Who knew Second Lieutenant Catalina had a boyfriend?" He shot Ed a slightly traumatized look. "Especially one who's so… menacing?"

Ed turned back to his phone, losing his already questionable interest in the conversation. "Certainly not me."

5:28 PM: Wow, that was like a thousand times more personal than what I asked you.

5:34 PM: _really? so you do have one?_

5:40 PM: If you must know, I'm afraid of palm trees.

5:46 PM: _you're serious?_

5:47 PM: I'm serious.

5:49 PM: _... can I ask why?_

5:50 PM: THEY'RE JUST TOO TALL MAN

5:50 PM: _they're not actually that tall when you consider the whole spectrum of tree varieties..._

5:52 PM: I don't care about your logic I'm just scared of them okay

5:52 PM: You have to answer the question now.

5:53 PM: _don't have any. guess I'm not a freak like you_

5:53 PM: Ugh. I get to ask you two questions now since you just did

5:55 PM: What do you do in your free time?

5:55 PM: _I work out_

5:57 PM: You work out.

5:57 PM: _yes?_

5:58 PM: That is the most Phony Macho Boy Trying To Impress A Girl answer I've ever heard.

6:00 PM: _I'm just answering the question!_

6:01 PM: Do you do anything else?

6:01 PM: _is that your second question?_

6:03 PM: ...No.

6:03 PM: _so now you have to say what you do in your spare time_

6:04 PM: I bake, I guess.

6:05 PM: Okay, Mr. Macho, do you have a girlfriend? Someone you're keeping in shape for with all that working out?

6:05 PM: _I don't_

6:06 PM: _and that's cool. about baking I mean. my mom used to bake a lot_

6:07 PM: _now you answer_

6:07 PM: Currently do not have a girlfriend. Will keep you updated.

6:08 PM: _so I guess it would be pointless to try breaking out my charm?_

6:08 PM: _though I guess it might not be a complete waste of time since that patient of yours you like so much is a guy_

6:09 PM: You have charm?

6:10 PM: _not really no_

6:10 PM: Haha. Your turn to ask a question.

6:12 PM: _have you ever actually encountered a palm tree?_

6:35 PM: Yes! There's this thing called the beach.

6:36 PM: _you must have taken too long to text back. the chief got bored and went back to his book. he's so out of it now he hasn't even noticed i'm using his phone._

6:39 PM: The chief?

6:39 PM: Who is this?

6:40 PM: _chief is what i've taken to calling fullmetal, i guess cause he outranks me or something. we have the same commanding officer_

6:40 PM: Commanding officer? Wait, he's in the military?!

6:40 PM: Is 'fullmetal' another nickname?

6:42 PM: _wait, did you not realize who you were texting?_

6:47 PM: I thought he was 17. Was he lying?

6:47 PM: _no, no he is 17_

6:48 PM: _great, he's gonna kill me_

6:50 PM: And he outranks you? How old are you?

6:52 PM: _that's not important_

6:52 PM: _how do you know the chief and not know he's military?_

6:53 PM: …That's not important.

6:54 PM: Are you guys fighting in the war?

6:55 PM: _i'm not currently. and the chief's not, cause ya know, the alchemist ban._

7:00 PM: wait. WAIT. You called him… Are we talking about the FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST?

7:02 PM: _so you have heard of him._

7:03 PM: _maybe i should just stop talking_

7:03 PM: Don't you dare.

7:04 PM: You're telling me I've been texting the Fullmetal Alchemist all this time. You're telling me the state alchemist whose title I've seen in newspapers is SEVENTEEN and I've been TEXTING HIM.

7:06 PM: _is someone feeling a little starstruck? man i wish girls would react like that when i tell them my name. but nooo i don't have a fancy title to throw around._

7:06 PM: _the chief has all the luck and he doesn't even use it to his advantage_

7:07 PM: This is insane.

7:07 PM: I know the People's Alchemist's favorite color. Did you know his favorite color is red?

7:08 PM: _um yeah, I could've guessed_

7:08 PM: Is he still reading?

7:09 PM: _yeah. i'm actually surprised you managed to distract him from his book for so long. it was kinda funny to watch, actually. pretty sure he forgot i was even here. he was like, giggling_

7:10 PM: Giggling?

7:29 PM: _I'm gonna kill that bastard_

7:36 PM: Is it you again?

7:37 PM: _for the record I have never giggled in my life. I was laughing at you because you're scared of palm trees._

7:38 PM: Let's talk about something more important here, like the fact that you failed to mention that you're a FAMOUS STATE ALCHEMIST

7:40 PM: _I mean you never asked_

7:40 PM: Oh my gosh.

7:41 PM: How long have you been in the military?

7:42 PM: _around 5 years_

7:43 PM: 5 years? You're telling me you joined the military when you were 12?!

7:45 PM: _yeah_

7:48 PM: If you don't mind me asking, why?

7:58 PM: _I'll tell you, okay? only not right now_

8:00 PM: Okay.

* * *

 

The wind was harsh as he left the library, whipping the hair that hadn't made it into Ed's ponytail across his face. He was shivering even through his coat. It didn't help that his automail amplified the chill. He fairly hobbled down the sidewalk with his head down and his hands shoved in his pockets, feeling ancient and more than a little irritated.

He'd exploded at Havoc enough to get them both kicked out of the library, but that still hadn't been able to work out all of his annoyance. It wasn't that he really minded that Winry knew who he was, and he was grateful that she didn't seem to connect the title Fullmetal with the name Edward Elric like he'd been worried she would, but his position in the military had still brought up questions that he wasn't up to talking about. He kicked a rock with the toe of his boot, and it ended up hitting the shoe of a girl walking in front of him. She turned around. Great. Ed kept his head down.

No luck. The girl slowed her pace, clearly meaning to walk alongside him.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Was it that obvious? Ed realized he was limping pretty heavily. He just needed to get out of this cold and rest a bit. He finally raised his head a centimeter and looked sideways at her. Short, dark hair framed the caramel-colored skin of her face, and she looked back at him with clear brown eyes. She was taller than him. Only very slightly, but it was enough to add just that much more to his irritation.

"'m fine," he grunted, turning his eyes back to the street in front of him. "Should you be out alone this late?"

"It's not that late," she answered. "Why, are you going to hurt me?"

Her tone impelled him to take another glance at her and he was a bit startled by the look in her eyes. She wasn't concerned for him, or even wary of him. She was flirting.

He wasn't as oblivious as some of the men in the military seemed to think he was about that sort of thing, but that didn't mean he was interested. It's not that she wasn't pretty, she definitely was, but Ed couldn't say he felt any sort of attraction towards her. He honestly couldn't say he'd ever felt that sort of attraction towards anyone.

Stupid girl. He may be feeling rough right now, but he was still capable of tearing her limb from limb if he actually did want to hurt her. He was suddenly angry at her for taking her own safety so lightly. Maybe he was wrong about her ability to defend herself, but he doubted it. He wanted to tell her off, but the cold was seeping through his ports into his bones and he felt suddenly drained.

"Hey, are you alright?" she asked again, but this time there was genuine concern and an undertone of alarm in the question.

Ed was starting to feel alarmed himself. He knew what that sudden exhaustion meant, and his eyes started frantically scanning the street for an escape. Maybe if he picked up the pace he'd have time to duck into that alley up ahead and hope that the girl would be mistrustful enough not to follow him.

But it was so hard to walk even a fraction faster than his current sluggish pace. He was too slow, and the alley was still several yards ahead of them when he felt himself doubling over, his eyes squeezed shut as a gush of red spilled from his lips to splatter onto the pavement.

The girl's horrified shriek was sharp in his ear as he stumbled into the wall, leaning heavily on his left arm. She wasn't running away, though, like he'd half hoped she would, and he definitely didn't want her to think she should take him somewhere. He fumbled for the phone in his pocket, but his vision was too spotty for him to see the screen clearly. Seeing little other choice, he held the phone out weakly to the girl freaking out next to him.

"Call Al," he mumbled. "He's on speed dial."

The girl's shaking hands hesitantly took the phone as Ed let himself slide down to huddle against the wall and wait for this horrible weakness to pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop. There will be more Winry in the next chapter, don't worry. I have a friend who's afraid of palm trees. Poor Win. At least our Palm Tree Baby isn't (likely) going to make an appearance.


	4. Chapter 4

"Paninya!"

The dark-haired girl looked up from her spot on Winry's bed in question, curious about her friend's obvious level of excitement. "Did Scot get here yet?"

"No, no," Winry waved the question away impatiently as she came in through the door. "He's running late I guess, but this is more important!" She held out her phone to her friend, bouncing on her toes.

Paninya took it, intrigued. Winry came up behind her and pointed at a message on the screen. "Start right there."

Paninya read through the messages, her eyes widening. "Is this for real?"

"I think so! I mean, I guess it's possible that he faked the whole thing, but that would be really lame. I'm not sure if there'd be any way I could find out for sure, but I think they're telling the truth."

Paninya just kept staring at the phone. "This is crazy."

"I know!"

"Can I text him?"

Winry frowned and sat next to her friend on the bed. "I guess, but probably not right now. He seemed a bit upset. I guess he didn't want me to know he was a state alchemist."

"He really joined up when he was twelve?" Paninya shook her head in disbelief. "I didn't even know that was allowed. Some kind of messed up system this country has…"

"I always kind of assumed the Fullmetal Alchemist was in his thirties or something." The blonde rested her chin on her fist.

"I wonder if there's any way we can see if he's just messing with us or not…"

"I don't think so. I mean, he wouldn't have said he was giggling if it was him the whole time, right?"

"Unless he just said that to throw us off." Paninya sat up straighter. "Is there something we could ask him that only a state alchemist would know?"

"Oh yeah," Winry rolled her eyes. "Can you tell us some government secrets, just so we know you really are who you say you are?"

Paninya slumped. "Good point."

There was a knock on the front door downstairs. Winry was expecting a customer for overhaul, someone both she and Paninya had come to think of as a friend. She jumped up from the bed. "That must be Scot."

* * *

 

The sheets on Ed's bed seemed scratchier than usual, but they were effective in allowing warmth to seep back into his body, which he was grateful for. Al had thanked the somewhat traumatized girl who had called him and gone with them to their apartment to make sure that Ed was okay, and was now walking her back to her own home, so Ed was alone in the room. He wasn't sure if it was the strange scratchiness of the sheets, but his skin was just itching to get out of there.

"How're you doing?" Ed startled a bit and turned to see Al hanging up his key on their key hook.

Ed swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Good. I'm great. And also, I think I'll be leaving now."

Al held up his hands. "Woah there. To go where, precisely?"

Ed looked down at his crumpled sheets. It was pretty late, now that Al mentioned it. "I hadn't thought of that. But I feel like I need to keep moving, you know? I didn't get anything new out of the books at this library."

Al took a seat on the edge of his own bed. "I know what you mean," he said, looking at his folded hands. "Especially with your condition not getting any better…Actually, I'm leaving too."

Ed looked up quickly, getting the sense that they both understood they were talking about more than just leaving the apartment at the moment. "What about your class?"

His younger brother fixed him with a determined look, and Ed got the feeling that he was about to find out what had been on his mind the past couple days.

"I'm dropping it, Brother. I'm not getting any more out of it than you are with the old books at the library. I'm dropping it–" He took a deep breath before plunging onward. "And I'm going to Dublith."

Whatever Ed had expected his brother to tell him, it had certainly had not been that. He willed himself not to panic and schooled his expression into something he hoped discouraged argument. "No, you're not," he said blandly.

Al had obviously anticipated this reaction. "We don't have the war to worry about at the moment, so we should try and make some actual progress–"

"You don't understand."

"No, I know why you don't want me to go," Al barrelled on. "Because you're not the only one who lost something to the Gate. And Sensei would be able to tell. I get it, you don't want her to know what we did. But if there is _any_ chance that she would be able to help us, don't you think it would be worth it?"

"No, I don't."

Al was getting visibly exasperated. Ed couldn't really blame him, if he had been in his brother's position, his stubbornness would have been aggravating to him as well. He sighed. "Is there anything I could say that would make you change your mind?" Ed asked, knowing that there was indeed something, but he really wanted to avoid going down that road.

"Look, I know you respect her, probably more than anyone we know, and that you really don't want to let her down. So, just say that you won't forgive me if I go, and I won't."

"Don't be ridiculous, Al." Ed answered immediately. "That's not even what this is about."

"It's not?" Al seemed genuinely confused. "If it's not about letting her down, then what?"

"Look, can we talk about this later?"

Al looked conflicted, and for a second Ed thought he was going to concede, but then his expression took on an air of resolve that had Ed's heart sinking again. "No," the younger boy said firmly. "No, because if you don't give me a convincing reason to stay tonight, then I'm taking the first train tom–"

"She's dead, okay?"

Ed tried to calm his pounding heart as he examined his brother's face. Al looked like he'd just been doused with a particularly chilly bucket of water, mouth still gaping open like a fish. The older boy looked away.

"Since when?" came his brother's quiet question after several moments of silence.

"A little over a year ago," Ed answered roughly, messing with a small hole he'd just discovered in his sheet.

He could feel Al's eyes on him, could feel the concern radiating from the younger boy. Well, Ed wasn't about to start crying on him, if that's what he was worried about. He'd already gotten past the stage where he'd struggle to keep from breaking down in front of his little brother, back when he'd first found out about Sensei's death. That wasn't a problem anymore.

Now the sheet had a slightly bigger hole.

"How did she die?" Al's voice was still small and timid. Ed didn't answer, figuring his silence was answer enough. She'd died for the same reason that Al had wanted to visit her in the first place; she had internal damage similar to Ed's, for the same reason, and it eventually had taken her life.

Ed finally chanced a glance at his brother, and from his horrified expression he guessed that Al had understood what his older brother wasn't saying.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Ed shrugged one shoulder. "Didn't wanna worry you."

"You're dying." It was more breath than sentence, but Ed still heard it. Al covered his mouth immediately, as if he hadn't meant to let that escape the confines of his mind and enter the air between them.

Ed had to restrain himself from snorting bitterly at the irony. Dying. This was the price indeed for wanting to be as powerful as the amazing Izumi Curtis.

But looking at his little brother, Ed was reminded of the deeper reason he hadn't wanted to tell Al about their Sensei's death. The younger boy's face showed horror, and concern, but all of that emotion was for Ed's own sake. There was no real grief there for the woman who had died, and that hurt Ed more than any fretting Al might do on his behalf.

He shook his head, giving his brother a stern look. "No, I'm not. You're gonna fix it, remember?"

Al nodded emphatically, some fire returning to his eyes. "I am."

And Ed could feel the steely determination reflecting in his own eyes. He had his own job to do, too, for the sake of the brother who was willing to do so much for him.

* * *

 

Winry focused the lens on her worker's goggles, to better see the tiny details of each finger of the automail sitting on the workbench in front of her. Paninya was kicking a soccer ball against the far wall, with Scot occasionally intercepting. They had managed to give her about four minutes of peace and quiet so far, a record for the two of them.

"Anything interesting happen lately?"

Ah, well. It was nice while it lasted.

"Winry just found out that this guy she's been texting who misdialed her a while ago is actually the Fullmetal Alchemist."

The mechanic twisted around to glare at Paninya. That wasn't exactly the topic of conversation she would have chosen. Paninya just shrugged innocently as Scot raised a thick eyebrow.

"Seriously?"

Winry resigned herself to the questioning and turned back to her work. "Yeah. Crazy, huh?"

"That's… sort of… sketchy, isn't it? I mean, some grown man preying on a young girl?"

"He's seventeen," Winry answered. "That's younger than you, Scot."

"Really?" Scot ran through his dark hair with one hand, the other one currently being on Winry's worktable. He'd lost his left arm from the elbow down in an unfortunate fishing accident. Funny how all Winry's friends seemed to be amputees. Guess it came with the job. "Still," he continued, "seems a little dangerous to get involved with a person like that."

Winry made an annoyed face at the automail. "Like what?"

"State alchemists. Military officers in general. They're all dogs, they can't be trusted. What does this guy want from you, anyway?"

"I don't know, nothing?" Winry answered sourly. She wasn't sure why she was getting so defensive about this, except that it wasn't really any of his business. "We just started texting by accident."

"Okay, okay," Scot backed down. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

Winry swiveled slightly in her seat to face him. "Sorry," she offered, feeling a bit bad about jumping down the guy's throat. "It's just, I'll be fine, okay?"

"Winry can take care of herself," Paninya added. "And the guy does seem pretty harmless, from what I've read of their conversations. As long as Win doesn't give him any sensitive information, she should be fine."

"When is your train coming, Scot?" Winry asked, keen on changing the subject.

"Tomorrow night." He slid his foot out and blocked the soccer ball that Paninya had sent toward the wall.

The blonde nodded, testing the range of motion of the metal thumb. "Okay, I'll change the sheets in the guest room, Paninya's leaving tomorrow morning so she'll move in to my room for the night."

"Nice, your bed's more comfy than the guest one anyway," Paninya piped up.

"Alright," Winry declared, pushing up her goggles. "This automail is ready to go."

Several minutes and a few tears (that Scot would adamantly deny ever left his eyes) later, the dark-haired boy was flexing the fingers on his newly attached left hand. The action reminded Winry of when Ed had done the same thing after his installation surgery, although Scot's movements seemed less scientifically calculating and more like he was working the kink out of a stiff muscle.

"Thanks, Winry."

She smiled. "No problem." She handed Scot a refill on his oil, wondering if Ed was maintaining his automail properly now that she wasn't breathing down his neck.

Scot added another quick thanks as he took the oil. "Sorry I made you work kinda late, but I appreciate it."

"No problem, anything for a friend," Winry assured him as the three of them left her workshop. She went straight to the guest room to change the sheets while Paninya moved her stuff to Winry's room. 

* * *

"So what now?" Al asked. "I'm assuming you're ignoring the fact that Colonel Mustang told you not to leave the city."

Ed waved his hand as if that wasn't even worth mentioning. "Of course. I tried to stay, it's not working out."

"I don't know where to go," Al deflated a bit after his initial conviction that the two of them ought to make some more progress. "Dublith was my only idea."

Ed frowned, racking his brain for any half-formed leads they might have had before the war had come along and postponed all their plans. But before he could get anywhere with that train of thought, Al made a small sound and pulled what looked like a restaurant flyer out of his back pocket.

"I almost forgot. That girl who called me left her number when I was walking her back to her home."

Ed gave his brother a mildly impressed look. "You smooth-talked her that quick?"

Al rolled his eyes. "She asked me to give it to you, actually."

At that Ed raised an eyebrow. So spitting up blood in the middle of the pavement wasn't a turn-off? "Hemoptysis fetish?"

The younger boy wrinkled his nose. "You're gross. Or, maybe she thinks you're cute _despite_ your health problems, and not because of them."

That still didn't make much more sense to Ed. Sure, he might joke around with Al about being the more handsome one, but in all honesty he didn't see why anything in his own appearance might be attractive to someone else. That's not to say that he thought he was ugly, he just didn't really think about what he looked like all that often. As he thought it, a little voice that sounded a lot like Winry's flitted through his mind. _His face is beautiful._

He gave the restaurant flyer an uncertain look, fighting the blush threatening to rise to his cheeks. "I don't want it."

Al shrugged and tossed it onto the nightstand between their two beds. "Suit yourself."

Ed yawned, stretching like a cat. The strain of the day was catching up with him again, and while it didn't seem like he'd done much that day, the automail was really taking a lot out of him. Not to mention he'd lost a considerable amount of blood. "Well, I'm beat. Let's plan in the morning, yeah?"

Al nodded his agreement. They could figure out where to go from here tomorrow, but for now they needed their rest.

* * *

 9:30 AM: How is he doing? Is he maintaining his automail?

9:37 AM: **He's doing fine and yes, he's taking care of his automail. You don't need to worry about him :)**

9:39 AM: Oh good. Thank you, Al. I wouldn't bother you but I don't have Ed's number.. And I wouldn't really trust him to give me an honest answer anyway.

9:40 AM: **It's no bother!**

9:41 AM: **I wanted to apologize for my brother's behavior when we were leaving anyway... When he gets uncomfortable, he usually says the opposite of what he's thinking.**

9:42 AM: Really? That's… interesting. I'll file that away for future reference.

9:42 AM: But please don't feel bad, it was fine, really. I've already forgotten about it.


	5. Chapter 5

Winry gave her friend a tight hug. "Take care of yourself. Keep in touch."

Paninya nodded against Winry's shoulder before releasing her. "Be sure to let me know if you get any more cute patients or if another legend starts texting you."

Winry laughed, giving Paninya's hand a quick, fond squeeze. "Will do. And remember you're welcome anytime, whether your automail needs attention or not."

Paninya nodded and grinned, swinging her bag over her shoulder and stepping off the platform. "See you later, Win!"

Winry waved and waited for the train to leave the station before she turned to start the walk back home. It wasn't too far from the train station to her house, but still she was starting to feel a bit chilly by the time she made it back. The weather was taking a definite turn towards colder days.

Scot was stretched out on the couch in a way that he somehow managed to make look graceful, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles. "Morning," he said sleepily as she opened the door.

Winry returned the greeting and glanced around. "Is Granny around?" The boy nodded.

"Yeah, she's in the kitchen."

"Ah." Winry lingered uncertainly in the doorway for a moment before offering, "I could make some tea, or some–"

Scot chuckled. "Relax, Win. You don't need to play hostess. It's just me." The blonde smiled and took a seat on the arm of the couch, letting herself feel more at ease.

"Sorry, force of habit. Wanna come downstairs? You could watch me do taxes."

"Ooh, riveting."

Winry smiled wryly, kicking off her shoes. "I wish I got to take a vacation day just because you're here, but unfortunately that's not the case. So you can watch me do our taxes or hang out by yourself." She stood up and offered her hand to help pull him off the couch. "Come on, having you around to bother me will make it seem less like a chore."

Scot took the hand and pulled himself up with a dramatic sigh. "Alright, you workaholic."

* * *

 

"Done," Winry declared, tossing her pen onto the desk and leaning back in her chair with a satisfied stretch. She craned her neck to look at the clock on the far wall. "And we still have several hours before your train comes."

Scot glanced at the clock, too, nodding. It was half past seven, and the train back to Vanes Balt, his hometown, wasn't coming until eleven. The two of them had been alternating between Winry working while Scot kept her entertained, and taking frequent breaks to either eat or laze around. Granny had gone on an errand to pick up some things from one of the people they regularly bought supplies from and was supposed to be back in about an hour or so. "So what do you wanna do now?"

Winry shrugged. "Up to you. We could go outside, get some fresh air. Maybe kick the soccer ball around a bit."

Scot didn't answer, continuing to look at Winry with what appeared to be a thoughtful expression. "Or we could do something else…" Winry offered, standing and moving towards the door. "Are you thirsty? Hungry? Can I get you anything?"

That seemed to snap the boy out of his thoughts, making him chuckle. "Again with the hostess routine. You know, you're cute when you're all worried over other people."

The blonde raised an eyebrow. Was he trying to flirt with her? Scot? Good grief, she hoped not. "Okay… Is that a yes or a no?"

"You don't need to get me anything," Scot said, also moving toward the door. "But there is something you could do for me, since you're so eager to please."

Winry shot him a skeptical look. "What kind of thing?"

The dark-haired boy looked sheepish. "You're not seeing anyone, are you, Winry?"

A brief image of Ed flashed through her mind, and she shook herself, taken aback both by the question and her brain's unexpected reaction to it. No, no, she was definitely not seeing Edward, even if a very small part of her might not be wholly opposed to the idea of trying it. "What? No…"

All traces of self-consciousness vanished, replaced by a charming smile. "Good."

Winry was now feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "Come on, Scot, please don't make this weird…"

"Make what weird?" he asked obliviously, taking a step forward, one hand moving to the back of his neck in a gesture that might seem shy on someone else, but Scot was oozing with confidence. "Has anyone told you lately that you're beautiful?"

Winry didn't like the direction he was heading, either conversationally or physically. He had somehow gotten in front of her without her noticing so that he was blocking her path to the door. Her arms stiffened at her sides, and she subconsciously took a step backward. "I don't need you to tell me that I'm beautiful."

He chuckled, his automail hand reaching out to lightly touch her shoulder. Winry jerked away roughly. When had he gotten close enough to touch her? "Stop," she said, grateful that an edge of authority came out in her voice.

It didn't do any good. Scot just smiled as if she hadn't flinched away from his touch or said anything, taking another step forward. The space between them was now disconcertingly small. Winry's eyes flew to the wrench on her workbench to her left. It seemed miles away.

Scot noticed what she was looking at, his eyes following hers. She saw his posture tense the smallest amount, a slight frown puckering his brow. She might have a second. She took a chance.

Winry sidestepped abruptly and lunged for the table. Her hand scrabbled for the wrench, but before she could get a solid grip on it she felt her body being yanked back and slammed against something solid. Her head snapped backward and hit the wall, hard. She blinked away the tears that automatically sprung to her eyes to see Scot directly in front of her, his hands firm on her shoulders and his eyes wide in something that might have been fear.

"Shit, Winry, you don't need to make this harder than it needs to be."

She didn't even want to ask what 'this' was. Her heart was racing in her chest now as she was suddenly very aware that there was no one else home and he had her trapped against the wall. She willed her eyes to be dry. She would not cry in front of him. She wouldn't.

"Let me go," she commanded with all the power she didn't feel.

"Come on, Win," he coaxed, pressing closer up against her. "You know you want me, too. There's always been something between us."

Where in the world had he gotten that idea? She certainly had never given him any indication that there was. She fought a shudder at his words and struggled to break free from his hold. It wasn't having any effect, and his face was too close, too close.

Real panic welled up in her chest as her lips were suddenly claimed by his. She couldn't move, his body pressed flat up against hers, her face cupped and held in place by his right hand and her arm trapped in his automail's vice-like grip. Why had she made his arm so _strong_?

His mouth was pressing on hers, harsh, demanding. Her right arm was crooked between them, trapped by the pressure of his chest. With effort she managed to move her fingers enough to dig her nails into the soft material of his shirt, hard, which succeeded in making him release her face to grab that hand and pin it to the wall behind her. Her face now free, she twisted her head to the side so that his mouth couldn't reach hers.

Undeterred by this new development, Scot transferred his attentions to her neck, planting his tongue below her ear. She gagged. Her mind raced for some way to escape, some move she might have seen one of the Elric brothers do during one of their sparring sessions to get out of a particularly strong hold. She was coming up blank. She didn't have room to maneuver.

The automail was digging into her upper arm, and she knew that even if she could try to twist away, that hand wouldn't slacken its grip. That's just how it was made. How _she_ had made it, never expecting that it would be used against her.

Wait. She had made it. She knew this automail even better than the back of her own hand. She knew every screw, every joint, every plate. And most importantly, she knew where the catch was.

Doing her best to block out what was happening to her neck, she looked down at the arm that was trapping her own. His hand was on her bicep, so her arm was free to move at the elbow. She would have to twist her hand around at a difficult angle to get at the catch, but she hoped it would be doable. She'd only have one shot at this, because if she couldn't reach it the first time he would catch on to what she was doing and restrain her arm completely.

The thumb on his metal hand started stretching dangerously towards her chest. She moved. Shoots of pain raced down from her elbow in protest of the awkward angle of her forearm, but one quick flick of her wrist and the catch released.

Scot hissed at the unexpected pain as half his arm was suddenly no longer attached to his body, and Winry took the opportunity to twist out of his hold. Once she was away from the wall she spun to face him, holding the automail out in front of her, ready to wield it as a weapon if necessary. Scot cursed under his breath, eyeing her warily.

She backed up slowly towards the door. "Don't you dare come near me." Her voice shook slightly, but she felt somewhat in control again. "You are going to go upstairs, you are going to get your things, and you are going to leave."

"You have my arm," he pointed out dumbly.

"And you really think you're gonna get it back right now? Seriously?" she scoffed. As she got closer to the door she reached out to her workbench, never taking her eyes off him, and slid her wrench into her pocket, just for added security. "I can't believe you told me to be wary of texting strangers. Like you're so concerned."

He took a few steps closer to the door and to her, his one hand raised in a gesture of surrender. "Well, you do know to be more careful now."

She spat in his face. He gave her a disgusted look and wiped it off. "Come on, Winry, I'm just joking. I wasn't trying to teach you a lesson or anything. I just… I think you're amazing, and gorgeous." He chuckled. "If anything you taught me a lesson. Don't come on to someone who knows how to disable you."

"You know what, don't even bother getting your things." She was practically seething at his audacity.

"Come on, Win–" But Winry was done listening to him, taking the stairs as quickly as possible. As predicted, he followed after her a few seconds later.

"All right, all right, I'm leaving, I'm just gonna run to my room and grab my stuff–"

"Fine. Whatever. I don't care, just get out of my sight."

He was in and out of his room in record time, but stopped after opening the front door to look back. She fixed him with the dullest look she could muster.

"Sorry this didn't work out, Winry." He gave her an embarrassed smile. "But, could I have my arm back?"

With a cry of frustration, she threw it straight at his head. "Just get out! And you can find yourself a new mechanic to reattach that."

Aggravatingly, he ducked before his own hand could hit him in the face. But a moment later he was gone, and Winry was quick to go up and lock the door behind him.

She sagged against the closed door, letting out a long, shuddering breath. After a few minutes of not moving she slowly and shakily made her way to her room. She headed straight to the bed and curled up in a ball, letting the tears she'd suppressed in her anger flow freely now.

She wasn't sure how long she laid like that, but a while after her tears had run out she heard the front door squeak open. Every muscle in her body tensed. She laid completely still, not daring to breathe.

"Winry, I'm home!"

She let all her breath out at once, feeling foolish. Granny. Of course.

The thought of explaining to Granny why Scot wasn't there made Winry feel sick to her stomach. She pulled herself upright on her bed, deciding to take a shower to avoid talking to her grandmother and to try to get rid of the dirty feeling on her skin.

The water felt cool running down her body but did little to soothe her nerves. Her arms shook when she raised them to shampoo her hair, and she noticed a bruise forming on her upper arm where the automail had gripped her tight. She felt the back of her head for broken skin or a lump, but everything thankfully felt smooth. It throbbed a bit, but it was smooth. She lingered under the water even after all the soap and shampoo was rinsed off. Her skin still didn't feel clean. Honestly she didn't want to get out, but she couldn't stay in there forever without Granny coming to investigate what was taking so long.

After shaving and stalling for what was probably an unreasonably long time, she stepped out and toweled off, putting on socks and the loose shirt and shorts she wore as pajamas and padding back to her room. Glancing at the clock, she decided it was late enough to call it a night and get some sleep.

Which turned out to be easier said than done. Her body refused to relax. Laying in bed, she kept alternating between righteous anger, leftover fear, and general miserableness. She wanted to talk to someone, and at the same time she never wanted to speak to anyone ever again. How dare he do that to her? She had trusted him. He had never expressed more than a friendly interest in her, and had even acted concerned for her wellbeing at times. She kept replaying what had happened in her mind, analyzing what she could have done differently, what she should have done.

But no, she couldn't let herself go down that train of thought for too long. None of this was her fault. It was purely, exclusively his fault, and that brought her back to righteous anger.

After hours of tossing and turning and still not being able to sleep, she almost decided to call Paninya, but she backed out at the last second. Paninya was too close. Winry would probably tell her what happened eventually, but right now she just wanted to talk to someone who wasn't so invested in her life. Someone she wouldn't ever have to look in the eye after this.

Before she could think too hard about what she was doing, she pulled out her phone.

* * *

 

Edward was out cold. He and Al had spent all day trying to find information about an old dead guy Colonel Mustang had mentioned as potentially having some useful research without actually asking the Colonel himself about it. So far they'd found mention of him in a few books, but nothing that was very helpful in finding out where his research might be. The two of them had both gone to bed exhausted, agreeing to get started again the next morning, so naturally Ed wasn't too pleased to be awakened in the middle of the night by his phone buzzing loudly by his ear.

He glanced over at Al's bed. He still seemed to be sleeping soundly. Ed groaned, taking his still buzzing phone and stumbling out into the kitchen. He flipped the phone open and slouched against the counter, grunting something unintelligible to whoever was on the other end.

"Hey, uh…" The voice on the other end sounded very uncertain. "This is that creepy automail mechanic."

"Wi–" he stopped himself just in time from saying her name. No, no, Winry did not have Ed's number, she had the randomly misdialing alchemist's number, and thankfully he had the presence of mind to remember that the randomly misdialing alchemist did not know her name. What on earth was she doing calling him in the middle of the night? Was it okay to even be talking with her on the phone? But her voice sounded different on the phone; in fact he probably wouldn't have recognized it if she hadn't said who she was, and that gave him the courage to respond, pretending the false start of her name had been the first stuttered sound of his question. "What is it?" he grumbled. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"N-no, I didn't," she said, sounding genuinely surprised and a bit embarrassed. She must have just looked at a clock when he said that. "Oh gosh, it's really late…"

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, crossing his right arm over his chest. "So why'd you call?"

There was no response on the other end. Ed frowned, glancing at his phone. Had she hung up on him? "You there?"

* * *

Winry couldn't believe she had actually called him. They didn't even really know each other, and it was three in the morning for crying out loud! She was mortified.

"Hey, don't call me up and then go all silent on me now…"

At the same time, simply hearing a voice on the other end grounded her like she hadn't been since the whole thing with Scot. She wasn't alone, not everything was horrible and there were some decent people in the world. Even if they were slightly grumpy from having been woken up.

"I… I'm here." Oh goodness, her voice shook even on that two-word sentence. What had happened to her anger? Did he notice? Maybe he didn't notice.

"Is everything okay?" His tone had gone from slightly bothered to concerned in a matter of seconds. He'd definitely noticed.

"Yeah… I mean… no." Her voice sounded so small and pathetic to her own ears.

"Are you hurt?" His words were quick and urgent.

"No, no. I mean, not really. It–I know this sounds stupid, but I just," she took a shaky breath, "I think I just need someone to talk to right now."

It was a moment before there was any response. "That's not stupid. Anything you wanted to talk about in particular? Did something happen? What did you mean by you're 'not really' hurt?"

Winry bit her lip, cradling the phone closer to her ear. "I don't think I want to talk about it. I don't know. I haven't decided yet."

"Okay…" he sounded a little dubious, and honestly Winry couldn't blame him. She was acting like the worst kind of attention craver, calling him up late at night and acting all traumatized but refusing to tell him why. "No one's dead, are they?"

"What? Goodness, no, nothing like that." Now Winry was feeling kind of silly. Of course he, the Fullmetal Alchemist, was used to dealing with bigger problems than her own personal weakness.

"Good," he said, sounding relieved. "At least tell me one thing. Do I need to kick anyone's ass?"

That brought a small smile to her lips. "And just how would you manage to do that, if I said yes?"

"I could find a way."

Winry closed her eyes. Maybe she didn't need to talk about it. Maybe she didn't have to burden him with this. They could just talk, like this, and she could let the voice in her ear lead her to pleasant distraction. The thought was tempting. "I'm sure the Fullmetal Alchemist has more important things to worry about."

"Not really. You know what I did all day? Tried to locate some dead guy's research."

She chuckled. "I bet that's a lot more important than you're making it sound."

"Maybe." Winry thought she heard the hint of a smile in his voice, too. She liked the sound of that. "You didn't answer the question, though."

No, she hadn't. She'd kind of been avoiding it, actually. She sighed. "You don't need to hurt anyone on my behalf. I kinda wish I had kicked it myself, though. I threw his own automail at his head, but he ducked."

The voice on the other end hissed. "Yikes. You're sure you're okay? You're not in any danger, are you?"

"No, I'm fine now."

"Alright..."

"You know, it's kinda nice hearing your voice," she mused, feeling her body finally start to relax as she lay on her bed with her phone pressed to her ear. "Even if it is a bit phone-garbled. Makes you seem more real. Less like I'm texting with some phantom in a box."

She heard a quiet huff of air on the other side. "You're weird." She was about to argue when he continued, sounding somewhat uncomfortable. "But you know… Some people find it easier to talk about difficult things over the phone than in person. I figure maybe that's why you called me. I know that I for one suck at face-to-face interactions, so…"

She smiled, knowing he was trying to make her feel more at ease with talking about what happened, but she couldn't help picturing meeting the Fullmetal Alchemist face to face and him acting all shy and awkward. She laughed quietly. "That's cute."

He made an indignant sound. "'S'not _cute_ …" That was followed by a few unintelligible mutterings and Winry was struck with the image of Ed shrinking away from her patronizing comments, a hot blush on his cheeks. She covered the grin blooming on her face with her hand.

"Hey, you still there?" She realized belatedly that she had been laying there not saying anything for a while.

"Yeah. Sorry, you just… reminded me of someone." Although she couldn't imagine having a conversation like this with _him._ It was too honest. Too vulnerable.

Her ears picked up the sound of a clearing throat. "Oh?"

"Yeah, just for a second." She heard an airy sound in response and realized he was trying to stifle a yawn. With another glance at the clock, she added quickly, "I should let you get back to sleep. Make sure you're all refreshed in the morning to face your… dead guy's research, and other exciting things."

"Mm. Okay."

"Really sorry about waking you up, and stuff… Thanks for, you know. Not hanging up on me."

"If you drag this out any longer, I still might."

"Right. Got it. Just one more thing?"

"Hm."

"My name's Winry."

There was a long pause. "Okay, Winry. Goodnight."

She huffed. "Hey! I thought you alchemists had a thing about equivalent exchange?"

"Sorry, my name's top secret classified military information. Though I am kind of impressed you know something about alchemy."

She snorted. "Like hell it is."

"You haven't earned it yet. Hanging up now–"

Winry started to make another protest but the line went dead. She glared at the phone and shut it off. Okay, so the guy wouldn't tell her his name. Maybe he had a good reason for it, or maybe he just enjoyed being mysterious and aggravating, but either way she wished she had something to call him other than the 'Fullmetal Alchemist'. She sighed, plugged her phone in, and turned to lie on her back, staring up at the ceiling fan that hadn't seen any use since the end of summer.

Still, one good thing had come from their conversation. It had definitely managed to put her in a better mood. Her stomach still clenched when she thought about what had happened, but Winry was confident that she would be alright. She tugged her blanket close around her and closed her eyes, feeling warm and sleepy and much less dirty.


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you asking my permission to leave the city?"

Ed crossed his arms over his chest. "No. We've just hit a dead end in our research."

"So you're asking for my help."

Ed snarled. "We're not-"

"Yes, we're asking for your help, Colonel," Al cut in. "And if you can help us, then my brother would also need your permission to leave the city."

Colonel Mustang leaned back in his desk chair and considered the younger brother with a more generous air than he had the older, whom he had been smirking at a moment ago. "What is it you need?"

Ed glared at his brother for a moment, but, knowing his intervention was helpful, just huffed and turned back to the Colonel. "That alchemist you mentioned a while back, Kelling. Do you know where to find his research? The books around here aren't any help."

"Kelling? I thought you looked into that before we were given our combat orders."

The blond shrugged, a bit embarrassed. "We never found anything then, either. Every book that mentions him is so vague…"

"You said you learned about him from the man you used to study under, right, sir?" Al asked. "Did they know each other? Would knowing the name of your old master help us find Kelling?"

The Colonel shook his head. "They didn't know each other. Kelling was before his time. He only knew of his work. I don't know where Kelling's original research would be; all I know is Master Hawkeye was very interested in his work before… we met."

Ed perked up. "So he probably took a bunch of notes on Kelling's research."

"Yes," Mustang said hesitantly. "But I would not recommend trying to find those."

"Why not? Did the military take all the stuff in his house when he died? If they did, then you could–"

"Berthold Hawkeye was not connected to the military."

"No? Then there might still be something at his house," Ed persisted. "Did you ever go back there after he died? Did you find anything?"

"I didn't look," he said evenly. "But I doubt you will find anything of use."

Ed huffed. "Right. Okay. Well, thanks for being so damn helpful. I'll see you later."

"Fullmetal–"

Ed ignored him, turning out of the office. Al hurried to follow.

"Don't be upset with the Colonel," Al said once they were out in the hall. "He's trying–"

"I'm not upset with him. We're going to Berthold Hawkeye's house."

Al stared at him for a moment before nodding. "I got the feeling he was hiding something, too. But how are we going to find out where Master Hawkeye's house is?"

"We'll just break into the records office. They've got personal stuff on all of us, I'm sure we could find out where the Lieutenant's home town is."

Al seemed a bit uneasy but there was resolve in his jaw. They both knew how important this could be. After a moment he nodded again.

"And after we check out his house," Ed added briskly, "there's a stop I want to make on our way back."

Winry woke feeling stiff and sore. Her muscles didn't feel much like getting her out of bed and she was honestly hard pressed to find a reason to make them. She had no customers that day, thankfully, but she did have some supply shopping to do. That could wait, right? At least until the afternoon. She wouldn't have to get up for several more hours.

"Winry! Breakfast!"

Or not. After a few more precious moments of lying motionless, she heaved herself up into a sitting position and stretched lethargically. The dark fingerprints across her bicep alarmed her for a moment, but it wasn't like she had forgotten what had happened the day before. Still, it was an unpleasant sight, and the bruises were becoming more pronounced.

In the mirror on the opposite wall she caught her reflection and almost laughed. Her skin was pale, with dark bags beginning to form under her eyes, which were slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep, and her hair had dried flat on one side, bumpy on the other. She looked like she'd been on some serious drugs.

She was not looking forward to the inevitable questioning once Granny realized Scot was no longer in the house, but it couldn't be helped. She stood and grabbed a hair tie from her dresser. She could at least make herself look half presentable.

Ed cursed, kicking at the pile of rubble. "That bastard…"

"We can't say he didn't warn us," Al observed relucantly.

"He might've mentioned he burned the damn place to the ground!"

"He did say we wouldn't find anything useful..."

That was an understatement. There was little question that this was the work of the Flame Alchemist. Not a wall was left standing, no furniture left recognizable. What was once a respectable place to live was now just a blackened pile of ash and debris. Say what you want about Mustang's alchemy, but it certainly was efficient. "More like anything at  _all._  This place is a wasteland."

"What confuses me is why the Colonel would want to burn it down in the first place." Al frowned thoughtfully.

"'Cause he's a jumped-up arsonist?"

"Or maybe there was something here he didn't want people to know about."

Ed glanced quickly at his brother. "Like the research notes we're looking for?"

"Possibly. But if that were the case, why would the Colonel ever mention Kelling's name in the first place?"

"You think it was something Berthold Hawkeye was doing?"

Al shrugged. "It's just a guess. In any case, there's not much reason to hang around here. If the Colonel didn't want there to be anything left, then there's nothing left."

Ed cursed again. Al was right. Another lead, useless.

The trees outside the train window zipped past Ed's vision, blurring together to form a vague mass of moving brown stripes. Al slept on his shoulder, the beginning of a puddle of drool forming on his sleeve. The older boy had caused his little brother so much stress lately that he didn't have the heart to push him off.

The records office had been almost ridiculously easy to break into, and in Ed's opinion they'd left a relatively small amount of destruction in their wake. It was probably only a matter of time before the Colonel heard about it and put two and two together, but Ed wasn't worried. It would take a lot to get Mustang off his lazy rear and actually come after them. Knowing the state in which he had left Hawkeye's house, he wouldn't be worried about the brothers finding something they shouldn't. Besides, he wasn't supposed to leave East City any more than they were, and he was historically less willing to break rules than the Elrics.

It was only after the fact that Ed considered the whole thing could've really ended up being a gross violation of the Lieutenant's privacy. He wasn't sure if she would have cared, but he reluctantly realized that they should have at least talked to her about it first. She might have even been able to tell them it was a lost cause. Ed wondered if she'd been back there since her father's death, if she even knew the house was no more.

If she hadn't known, but didn't want them snooping around, would he have pursued it anyway? Ed hated to admit it even to himself, but it almost wasn't a question. If there was any chance at all that they might uncover something that could help Al, he would have had to pursue it.

The train pulled into the station. He nudged his brother awake and the two of them got off, back onto the familiar platform. Home sweet home, he thought somewhat sardonically. At least this town held more warmth for them than it once did.

For some reason Ed thought that once they arrived at Winry's house he would magically have come up with a good excuse for being there, but, as he should have realized, that did not turn out to be the case. He could hardly tell her he wanted to make sure she was okay after her distressed phone call several nights ago, since he wasn't supposed to have known anything about that call. Honestly, the whole problem of balancing two identities around Winry was getting tiring and a bit ridiculous, but he couldn't see an easy way out of it at this point without seriously breaking her trust and bringing up questions that would bring him dangerously close to sensitive military information. He didn't want to be the reason things blew up in the face of Mustang's team any more than he already was.

Al sighed as he watched his brother pace back and forth on the porch. "We could just say we were passing through. We kind of  _were_ passing through."

"She'd see right through that. That's what they all say."

"That's what  _w_ _ho_ all say? Brother, Winry's not looking for a reason to bust us. She has no reason to be suspicious of who we are, does she?"

Ed grimaced, hearing Winry's voice from that night, somewhat garbled by the phone lines.  _"You just reminded me of someone."_ He hadn't told Al every detail about that conversation, just enough to make him understand why he felt the need to check up on her.

"Or..."" Al started, seeming to understand at least part of what was behind Ed's expression. "Even if she does, is it that big a deal? I feel like we can trust her."

"Can we, Al? Can we trust anyone? I know I've already blown my cover once, with your medical unit, but I'm just…"

"Just?"

 _Tired of making a mess of things._  Ed sighed. "Just trying to be careful." For once.

If Al was going to respond to that, his reply was cut off by the front door opening.

Winry knew she was going to tell her grandmother what had happened with Scot, but she was starting to wish she hadn't. When she had told Granny why he was no longer staying with them, her grandmother had taken it in with a calm exterior, but Winry could tell underneath she was simmering. She'd called all her contacts in the area where Scot lived that she knew had young girls in the household to warn them against him, an endeavor which Winry tried not to be completely humiliated by. Since then Granny had been hovering close by, reluctant to leave her granddaughter alone while simultaneously trying to appear as if she were not hovering. In a way the mechanic was grateful for her concern, but she didn't exactly enjoy the feeling of being constantly under supervision.

The hovering had been going on for several days now, only interrupted when Granny was forced to leave the house for various business related errands, allowing Winry to catch a breather from the constant supervision. Her grandmother had been gone for about half an hour on one such occasion when she decided to take advantage of the opportunity and get a bit of fresh air.

Her coat was only halfway on her body by the time she got the door open and saw the Elric brothers on her porch, looking like children caught sneaking sweets. She was pretty sure a small, startled yelp escaped her throat and she stood there with her hand still on the doorknob, the door halfway open.

This was certainly not a sight she expected to see this morning. After a moment of recovering a bit of her senses, her eyes lowered to Ed's limbs to see if something had happened to his automail, but of course in this weather he was wearing a coat and long pants, so it wasn't immediately obvious. He was standing, at any rate, and his arm didn't seem to be hanging unnaturally at his side. She was about to ask what in the world they were doing there when Al cut through the stunned pause.

"Hello, Winry!" He greeted with a slightly embarrassed but genuine smile. "Nice to see you again! We were just passing through and we thought we'd stop by."

Ed was staring at Winry's exposed left upper arm, his face hard. She quickly pulled her coat on the rest of the way. His eyes lifted to hers and she looked at Al instead. She'd almost forgotten how intense those eyes could be. "Oh, um… Great! Nice to see you, too! You could've called, though," she chuckled, hoping she sounded natural.

"Right, sorry," Al said, nudging Ed. "See, brother, I told you we should call."

Ed blinked, seeming to come to himself. "So, are you gonna let us in?"

"Well I  _would–"_  she started, bristling automatically, before stopping herself. "I mean–no. No." She was still standing in front of the door with it half open and she subconsciously closed it a bit further. Granny had told her not to let anyone be alone with her in the house, and while Winry didn't like being distrusting of the Elrics, she planned to follow her grandmother's advice, at least until they both calmed down from what happened. After all, she had thought she could trust Scot, too. Her stomach clenched with the thought that even Ed and Al might be capable of wishing her harm.

Both of them looked taken aback, Ed spluttering, "What–"

"I mean–my Granny's not home, but we can go into town if you want," she explained quickly, hoping they wouldn't bring up the fact that they had been in her house when Granny was out before, especially Ed, having lived with them. Thankfully they didn't, only exchanging one of their aggravating Brother Looks before Al spoke.

"Of course, yeah, that's fine."

"I was just going for a walk anyway," she continued, pulling the door all the way closed behind her.

The three of them headed down the path leading away from the house. Winry could see Ed glancing at her every few seconds on the edge of her vision, a slight frown on his face. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she hadn't showered that morning.

"How've things been here?" Ed asked.

"Good. Business has been fairly light, overall. About as many clients as when you were here."

"Ah." Ed looked like he wanted to say something else. He didn't. Al picked up the conversation.

* * *

"What can I get for you today?"

"We'll take three hot cocoas, thanks."

The tall waitress walked back toward the kitchen and Winry turned back to the boys. The walk here to the cafe had been aggravating for Ed. With every lull in conversation he had wanted to ask the questions searing into his skull, made even more pressing with the sight of the purple and slightly green skin Winry had been so eager to hide underneath her coat sleeve. Those marks had been distinctly finger-shaped. Did that have anything to do with what she had called him about that night? Just thinking about it made his fists itch to punch something–some _one._

He wished he could just ask, but he knew he couldn't. The look on her face when she had quickly pulled her coat up the rest of the way told him that if he demanded to know where she got those bruises, she would just make up some lame excuse and change the subject. It wasn't Ed she had turned to in her late-night distress, it was a near stranger. It wasn't any of Ed's business.

"So how're your classes going, Al?"

He cleared his throat. "It was more like… just one class. And I dropped it, actually."

"Oh." Winry's brows knitted together. "Was the coursework too hard?"

Ed snorted. "More like too easy. I'll have you know, my brother is a genius."

Al rolled his eyes. "What he  _means_  to say is, I wasn't getting much out of the class."

"What was the subject?"

Al appeared only a bit nervous before answering. "Alkahestry." Ed held his breath. Winry blinked.

"Oh. Is that some sort of science? I've never heard of it."

Ed let out his breath.

"Yeah, it is," Al answered.

Winry nodded. "Well, sorry that didn't work out. So are you two planning to stay in Resembool tonight, or do you have to be on your way?"

The train back east would come the next day, but with the Colonel likely waiting to reprimand them for disobeying orders again, they weren't sure they wanted to head back there just yet. But with all of their leads absolutely shot down, where else would they go? "We'll be here for at least a night," Ed answered. "You don't mind if we crash at your place, do you?"

Winry shook her head. "No. In fact, Granny will probably insist."

* * *

The tops of the tombstones were bathed in sunlight, casting a shadow over the wreath of daisies placed carefully on the grave that the Elric boys stood before. The sensation of wrongness that Al experienced the first time he remembered standing here settled once again in the pit of his stomach, only slightly muted by the years.

He glanced at his brother. Ed had made the daisy wreath. He did that every time Al could remember the two of them visiting this grave, which admittedly was not often.

His brother's expression was hard to read, but his shoulders slumped. At least he wasn't looking at Al. Al knew that when he did that, though his eyes would be guarded, underneath it would be the same look Ed had given him when he finally told him about their sensei's death. The same barely restrained sorrow. The same guilt. It was the look of guilt that hurt Al more than anything else.

He let his eyes fall back to the name engraved into the tombstone. He wanted to leave.

* * *

Winry was almost done with her morning coffee when the front door opened, admitting a ruddy-cheeked Al. He hung up his mustard yellow scarf and black coat on the coat rack before spotting her on the couch.

"Good morning," he greeted.

"You were out?" she asked. "I figured the two of you were sleeping in. Is Ed out, too?"

"Yeah, he's still at his mother's grave."

Winry blinked. There were multiple things unexpected about that particular sentence. She'd start with the most obvious.

"She's buried nearby?"

"Oh!" Al seemed surprised, apparently not realising that she wouldn't know that. "Yeah, she died back when me an' my brother lived in Resembool."

"You used to live here?" In the month that Ed had spent living with them, how had that never come up? She was starting to get a picture of just how much that boy kept to himself.

"Yeah, we were both born here. We moved around, oh, five years ago. I was eleven."

That would have been several years after Winry had moved in with her grandmother. Pity that they'd never met.

"So is Ed your half brother, then?"

Al frowned in confusion. "No. Why would you say that?"

"I mean, you said he's at  _his_ mother's grave. I thought that must mean you have different mothers."

Al's reaction to that was not what Winry would have expected and she suddenly felt that she had said something wrong. He froze where he was, his eyes widening just the slightest amount.

"I said that?"

Now she was really confused. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"Please don't tell my brother I said that," Al pleaded, taking a seat in a chair across from the couch. "I didn't mean to. We definitely have the same mother. I mean," he added with a chuckle, a bit too high pitched to sound natural, "at least as far as I know."

"I–I won't tell him," Winry assured him warily, "But why  _did_  you say it?"

"I didn't mean to," he repeated, his hand in his hair. When she only looked at him, a question on her face, he sighed.

"My brother's the one who remembers our mom. I don't. Sometimes… sometimes it feels like she's just his mom, like she doesn't really have anything to do with me."

"But the two of you aren't that different in age, are you?"

"No… we're not. Just a year. It's not because I was too young to remember." Al tugged on the top of his hair, reminding her of Ed's nervous head-scratching. His gaze jumped around to various pieces of furniture in the room as if entreating them for a way out. Seemingly finding nothing, he went on.

"I have amnesia. Everything I know about my life before the age of ten is what my brother has told me."

He glanced at her as if to gauge her reaction and Winry was suddenly hyper-aware of the expression on her face. How were you supposed to respond when someone told you something like that?

"Oh, wow, that's… that's crazy." Her own voice sounded hollow and stupid in her ears. She'd never met anyone with amnesia before. Especially not as severe as that. She couldn't even imagine what it would be like. And the piece of information that his brother was apparently the only authority on what had happened during Al's childhood brought up even more questions. Didn't they have a dad? Any other family, friends?

"Yeah," he agreed.

"How did that happen?"

The boy grimaced as though he had been hoping that wouldn't be brought up. Honestly Winry thought it was a natural follow-up question that he really should have been expecting.

"I don't remember."

Nice try. "Didn't Ed tell you?"

As if on cue, the door opened and Ed threw off his coat, just as rosy-cheeked from the cold as Al had been a few minutes ago. His next step had him almost halfway to the ground, flinging out his left arm to grab the coat rack for support.

Winry jumped up from the couch, setting down her mug. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Ed grumbled. "Stupid leg acting up."

"Well, I guess that's to be expected. After resting so much at home, the trip down here was bound to be a bit of a strain."

Ed didn't respond, only briefly glancing at Al before straightening himself. Her eyes narrowed.

"You  _were_  resting at home, weren't you, Edward?"

He started hobbling weakly toward the stairs. "I think I'm going to go do that now…"

She whirled on the younger brother. "Al!" He threw up his hands.

"Don't look at me! I tried to get him to rest more, but the man wouldn't listen!"

Ed snorted. "Like hell he did. Is Granny nearby?"

 _Oh, trust me, she's nearby._ "In the kitchen. I think she has breakfast for you two."

"Oh." Ed stopped short in his trek to the stairs. "Well, in that case."

"You go up to your room and lie down, I'll bring you something. Al, help him upstairs."

The two boys hesitated for a moment, staring at her. "You know, I definitely didn't miss your bossiness," Ed noted.

"I'm offering to bring you food, aren't I?" Winry huffed, her arms crossed. "Now move!"

This time there was no hesitation.

Winry bumped lightly against the door of the guest room before entering, a plate full of eggs and toast in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. She stepped carefully around Al's empty mattress on the floor before placing the plate on the bedside table.

She shook her head as Ed pulled himself into a slightly more upright position against the headboard. "Honestly, what is so important that you won't take the proper time to recover?"

"Nothing, it's just… I don't like sitting still."

She thought of her conversation with Al and wondered if that was something she could talk about with Ed. It was always so hard to tell. Oh well, she figured, might as well keep trying, or else they would never talk about anything important.

"So what happened to Al?" she asked as casually as she could manage.

She might have imagined it, but she could have sworn Ed froze for a fraction of a second. His response a moment later, however, was just as casual as her question.

"Isn't he downstairs eating breakfast?"

"I mean," she tried again patiently, perching on the foot of his bed, "what caused him to get amnesia?"

Now she was sure his jaw tightened, and now was really, really probably not the time to notice how strong that jawline was. Honestly, why did the guy have to be so dang striking? It was such a distraction. Other than that, though, he didn't seem too caught off guard, confirming her suspicions that he had known what she was getting at from the first question.

"He told you."

"It came up."

Ed looked like he really would rather be eating toast than talking about this. Apparently figuring there was no reason he couldn't do both, he stuffed an indecently sized bite into his mouth before speaking. "It was just a childhood accident."

How marvelously vague.

"It's okay, I get it," she said with a shallow sigh. "None of my business. I know there's a lot about your life you don't tell me. It's fine, really. I'm sure you have your reasons."

And honestly, why couldn't she just be satisfied with the vague answers? Why did she feel the need to butt into every part of these boys' lives? He didn't owe her an answer.

It was because they were so aggravatingly mysterious, she told herself. They knew pretty much every point of interest there was to know about her, and she knew next to nothing about them. That was why she wanted to get to know them, because it was only fair, and she was intrigued.

For now she could pretend that was the whole truth.

At least Ed had the courtesy to look regretful. "It's not like I don't want to tell you," he muttered. "It's just not something I can tell people."

"What, were the two of into criminal activity when you were children?" she joked, only realizing when the question was out of her mouth that it might not be a joke at all. A lot of messed up stuff could happen during a person's childhood that might lead them to desperate situations. Though she couldn't imagine any of those situations leading to amnesia.

Ed smiled, wide and mirthless. "Why, would you turn us over to the authorities if we were?" he asked, the question accompanied by a long swig of orange juice.

"Of course not," she said seriously, though she was admittedly getting a little nervous. "But… okay, say that  _is_  the reason you can't tell me. Hypothetically. You're not… into that kind of thing  _now._  Are you?"

"No." He looked back at her just as seriously. "Not that kind of thing. Hypothetically."

The tension in her chest eased considerably. She didn't know what she would do if faced with the problem of harboring criminals. Surely she and her grandmother couldn't get in trouble over something that the boys may or may not have done when they were children, right?

"Don't you have any butter for this toast?" Ed grumbled, taking another large bite out of said offending toast.

"It's already buttered!" Winry insisted. "Goodness, just because it's not drowning…"

"If it's not drowning, it doesn't even count."

"Well excuse me for trying to make sure you don't have a heart attack."

"Mm…" Edward wrinkled his nose, thoughtfully considering it. "Nope. Not excused."

Winry pursed her lips together to keep from laughing. Ed may have been a jerk, but he did know how to break the tension.

"Whatever," she said, standing. "Enjoy your heart-attack-free breakfast. I'll be downstairs."

"Good. Maybe without you bothering me I can finally get some of that rest you keep nagging me about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To read about how Al lost his memory (since I'm sure you've guessed... and if you haven't, don't read it) go check out my one-shot, Awakening! It was originally written as backstory for this fic.
> 
> His amnesia has been hinted at most every chapter if you were really looking ;)
> 
> Don't forget to comment!
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Alice


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